The Top 10 Outkast Songs

Until Big Boi and Andre 3000 came along, it wasn’t cool for rappers to brand themselves as outsiders. They could be antiheroes, or media moguls, or poets, or rock stars – but outcasts? Aliens? Georgians? Outkast rose from the hip hop backwater of Atlanta by not pretending they were from New York. They made records with the patience of a BBQ chef, backloading them with luxuriously long, funk opuses, showcasing their love for George Clinton more deeply than Dr. Dre ever could. They exuded confidence on the mic by being themselves, rapping in rapid-fire triplets over organically produced funk and R&B compositions, establishing Southern rap as we know it. Even their failures were bold and individualistic, like Andre’s off-key Prince impression/electro-jazz opus The Love Below. It’s no coincidence that rap artists have reveled in being different ever since. Lil Wayne is “not a human being.” Young Thug rocks designer parasols and celebrates Slime Season. Migos tops the charts while dressed like 19th century fur trappers. Largely because of these two dope boys in a cadillac, who scored a massive hit by bragging, “I am for real.”

Here are the 10 best Outkast songs, now and forever until the inevitable comeback album. Playlist below.

10. “Git Up Git Out” (1994, Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik)

This Southern-fried, horn-fueled triumph from Outkast’s debut is the funkiest self-help seminar of all time: “You need to git up, git out and git something / How will you make it if you never even try?”

9. “Aquemini” (1998, Aquemini)

On a song that uses a portmanteau of the rapper’s Zodiac signs as its title, they expound on the impermanence of it all, over a cascading opiate of a groove. You never want it to end. But like everything, it does.

8. “Da Art of Storytellin’, Part 1” (1998, Aquemini)

Boasting a hypnotic, descending melody that aliens should use to calm us upon arrival, this song also delivers on the promise of its title, especially when Andre 3000 fits an entire tragic story arc in one verse.

7. “Elevators (Me and You)” (1996, ATLiens)

“We done come a long way like those long-ass cigarettes,” shares Andre on “Elevators,” the first truly special Outkast single. The beat doesn’t slap; it sinks into a cavern of reverb, making this reflection on success sound more like a séance than a celebration.

6. “I’ll Call Before I Come” (2000, Stankonia)

To this day, the idea of a man being a considerate lover does not jive with our toxic, “they only care about one thing” concept of masculinity. Yet 18 years ago, Outkast teamed up with Three Six Mafia’s Gangsta Boo to make a witty, boisterous summer jam about putting your partner’s pleasure first. The older it gets, the more incredible it sounds.

5. “Babylon” (1996, ATLiens)

This harrowing, slinky masterpiece of mood is drenched in lapsed Catholicism. As Andre outlines how religion demonizes sexuality and Big Boi takes down every preacher that blames rappers for crime waves, the background vocals ominously hum.

4. “The Whole World” (2001, Big Boi and Dre Present … Outkast

In 2001, Big Boi and Dre were on top of the world. But on this single, they were also feeling the weight of it. Over a careening carnival beat, they vented about the appropriation of black culture, and the extremist hatred that the 2000 presidential election did nothing to quell. Dre’s opening lines are as honest as a hit song ever gets: “Yeah I’m afraid / Like I’m scared as a dog / But I’ve got a new song / And I want y’all to sing along.”

3. “So Fresh, So Clean” (2000, Stankonia)

Unlike most of their peers, Outkast wasn’t in the myth-building business. They just rapped about how they felt, whether that was vulnerable, or proud, or sexy. So when they claimed “ain’t nobody dope as me” over a slick-as-hell Joe Simon sample, we believed them. That’s the kind of self-confidence that catches.

2. “SpottieOttieDopaliscious” (1998, Aquemini)

Here is where we started to wonder if the alien metaphors were metaphors after all. This otherworldly seven-minute slow jam blurs the line between rap and spoken word, exhaling between verses with a horn arrangement that dances up our spines, on the way to flooding our pleasure sensors. We hear Andre talk about a drunken night at the club, and Big Boi opine for the mother of his child – “Her neck was smelling sweeter / Than a plate of yams with extra syrup.” The vibe was so relaxed, it almost made us feel like we were spending time with these guys, finding out what was on their minds as they so casually blew ours away.

1. “B.O.B.” (2000, Stankonia)

Outkast’s best song is fueled by an almost dangerous level of energy. “B.O.B.” is a sky-splitting sonic boom; when it’s over, you can smell the ozone. Its beat is a monster that would swallow up most rappers – snare hits spray the vicinity like AK-47s while a pipe organ soundtracks the funeral of our preconceptions. What a thrill it is to hear Andre 3000 and Big Boi enter this maelstrom and tame it. “Like a million elephants and silverback orangutans, you can’t stop a train,” flexes Dre, perfectly describing the breathtaking energy, speed and dexterity on display. Many of the songs on this list could be described as “electrifying.” This one could power the Eastern seaboard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Top 25 Songs of 2017

So you’ve read my Top 20 Albums of 2017 and find yourself wanting more. Here you go, person who doesn’t exist! It’s my Top 25 Songs of 2017. My all-time favorite songwriter is on here. A segment from a radio show is on here. And Fergie is on here? Yes, Fergie is on here. There’s a full playlist below, after I’m done yammering.

25. Fergie ft. Nicki Minaj – “You Already Know”

Over a dynamite interpolation of Rob Base and DJ EZ Rock’s “It Takes Two,” Fergie catches fire, outrapping her legendary guest against all odds.

24. Laura Marling – “Soothing”

“I banish you with love,” croons Laura Marling over one of the grooviest bass lines of the year. Getting dumped never sounded so good.

23. Young Thug – “Do U Love Me”

This preternaturally melodic rapper sings a love letter to himself over a sprightly dancehall beat, teaching us the difference between ego and self-confidence.

22. Randy Newman – “She Chose Me”

If you’re lucky enough to know how it feels to have a partner you don’t deserve, this stark ballad from our greatest living songwriter hits hard.

21. Courtney Barnett & Kurt Vile – “Continental Breakfast”

Two brilliant slacker/songwriters, singing about their intercontinental friendship over a loose, rolling groove. Should be played in lieu of presidential speeches to the UN from now on.

20. CupcakKe – “Barcodes”

This sex work empowerment anthem is a blast of exuberance from a Chicago rapper on the rise. “Pay the damn price or go home to your wife,” CupcakKe demands, backed by the funkiest horns we heard all summer.

19. Bebe Rexha – “I Got You”

A pop song about building trust, with a chorus that feels like falling into somebody’s arms.

18. Brockhampton – “Gummy”

We get a few seconds of lush, harp-trilling Disney music before the plug is pulled, the feedback squeals, and rap’s most energetic crew takes off.

17. Kreator – “Side By Side”

The loudest anti-fascist music in 2017 was made by Germans. The pealing riffs and pummeling drums of “Side By Side” are almost as explosive as the rallying cries.

16. Offset & Metro Boomin – “Ric Flair Drip”

Metro Boomin beats don’t hook us. They mesmerize us. So while Offset unleashes his masterful triplet flow on “Ric Flair Drip,” it’s the producer’s dark, pinging synths that linger on in our memory.

15. Carly Rae Jepsen – “Cut to the Feeling”

On paper, lyrics about breaking through the ceiling, dancing on the roof and playing with the angels are pretty cliché. But when paired with the sonic equivalent of carbonated helium, they’re perfect.

14. Nnamdi Ogbonnaya – “Hop Off”

The dive-bomb bass and chirping synths are fun enough on their own. Then one of the most elastic voices in hip hop jumps in, and we reach a whole new plane of party.

13. Thundercat – “Tokyo”

An electro-jazz-yacht-rock bass virtuoso sings about how a great vacation can bring out the kid in us: “Gonna eat so much fish I think I’m gonna be sick / Gonna blow all my cash on anime!”

12. Power Trip – “Executioner’s Tax (Swing of the Axe)”

The headbanger of the year, with a riff that chugs like a locomotive from hell, and a chorus that demands to be shouted at top volume, like a bloodthirsty Queen of Hearts.

11. Big Boi – “All Night”

The still-underrated half of Outkast made this year’s anthem for the blissfully monogamous. “Hit you with your bonnet on by the nightlamp,” he raps, over a big toothy smile of a piano loop.

10. SZA – “Drew Barrymore”

This devastating breakup song was inspired by Drew Barrymore’s insecure character Josie Geller in Never Been Kissed. There’s no Hollywood ending here. But when the strings swell, so do our hopes for one.

9. Black Thought – “Hot 97 Freestyle 12/14/17”

Sometimes, nothing is flashier than stamina. Like when the voice of The Roots hopped on Funkmaster Flex’s radio show and unleashed 10 minutes of fiery, perfectly crafted bars. By the end, he was sweating. And so were we.

8. Feist – “I’m Not Running Away”

I can’t shake this tune. Bold declarations of loyalty are held up by little more than Feist’s stark, bluesy guitar. She finds a kind of rhythm that drummers can’t reach.

7. Drake – “Passionfruit”

Over a swirling dream of a dancehall groove, a narrator mourns a fading long-distance relationship. It’s emotional and entrancing – in other words, a signature Drake summer smash.

6. Jeremih – “I Think of You”

Jeremih seriously flirts with MJ status here, making sunset references sexy again over an utterly joyful, marimba-inflected beat.

5. Julia Michaels – “Uh Huh”

This accomplished pop songwriter has apparently saved the best material for herself – especially this starry-eyed acoustic gem that crescendos to an instant high of a chorus.

4. Calvin Harris ft. Frank Ocean & Migos – “Slide”

A smooth-as-ever Frank Ocean sings about moments when “whatever comes, comes through clear” over a breezy disco groove from Calvin Harris. Corona wishes they could bottle this.

3. Haim – “Little of Your Love”

Our finest purveyors of ’80s adult contemporary singalongs serve up a chorus so effervescent, it made this especially heavy year feel lighter.

2. Kendrick Lamar – “DNA”

Over the levitating sitar n’ bass rumble of the year’s best rap song, Kendrick Lamar brags about his ability to reach nirvana in yoga class. As his rapid-fire syllabic mastery carries us away, we get a real idea of what he’s talking about.

1. Kesha – “Woman”

The New York Times ran a story last July about the health benefits of cursing – including stress relief and higher pain tolerance. The best song of 2017 definitely backs up these findings. When Kesha sings “I’m a motherfuckin’ woman!” punctuated by the profoundly funky Dap Kings horns, the combination of positive vibes and disregard for pop norms is exhilarating. Unlike the way our president talks, “Woman” is not vulgar. It’s defiant, and important, and very, very good for us.

Honorable Mentions: 2 Chainz – “Sleep When U Die”; Bob Dylan – “Braggin'”; Nick Hakim – “Cuffed”; Hus Kingpin – “Wave Palooza”; Jonwayne – “TED Talk”; Kamiayah – “Dope Bitch”; Kesha – “Hunt You Down”; King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard – “Crumbling Castle”; Kendrick Lamar – “Element”; Aimee Mann – “You Never Loved Me”; Migos – “Slippery”; Frank Ocean – “Chanel”; Angel Olsen – “California”; Pallbearer – “Thorns”; Syd – “Got Her Own”; TT the Artist – “Real Bitch Problems”; Tove Lo – “Disco Tits”; Ulver – “Nemoralia”; White Reaper – “Eagle Beach”; Your Old Droog – “Grandma Hips”

 

 

 

 

The Top 20 Albums of 2017

Music is the best. Nothing that happened this year could change that. For every stress-inducing headline, there was a soothing melody. For every messy situation, there were 16 perfectly constructed bars. Every time we wanted to scream, a great metal song provided an outlet. Here are just 20 of the recordings that made life easier for me this year. The next time you can’t believe what you’re hearing, start listening.


20. Nick Hakim – Green Twins

Nick Hakim approaches his brand of earnest R&B like a master restauranteur, valuing the ambiance as much as the meal. On his debut LP, the gifted Brooklynite refuses to just point and say “isn’t this catchy?” It’s seductive. At first listen, the reverberating piano chords of “Needy Bees” are merely soothing; by listen five, they’re inescapably beautiful, supporting every twist and turn of the melody. As a songwriter, Hakim is refreshingly astonished by things like love, and dreams, and pregnancy. He attains poignancy through simple language, including one of the most romantic sentiments of the year: “If there’s a god / I wonder what she looks like / I bet she looks like you.”

19. Ulver – The Assassination of Julius Caesar

As a legend of the Scandinavian black metal scene, Kristoffer Rygg understands the mechanics of slow-building soundscapes and folkloric songwriting. And on his 11th album fronting the shapeshifting outfit Ulver, Rygg applies these talents within the eyeliner-smudged confines of 1980s goth-pop. It’s remarkable how well it works. Over the nine-plus minute expanse of “Rolling Stone,” the band rides a throaty synth riff until we’re in its thrall. And on “Nemoralia,” Rygg goes full Depeche Mode, his voice floating over hauntingly catchy synths, connecting the pagan feast of the goddess Diana to the tragic demise of the princess of the same name. Obsessed with ancient history and aglow with gloomy beauty, this is a master class in how to experiment with genre without losing yourself in the process.

18. CupcakKe – Queen Elizabitch

This Chicago rapper first garnered attention in 2015 with exuberant, X-rated club tracks like “Deep Throat.” But her music is as much about tension as it is about release. Her second mixtape, Queen Elizabitch, is full of empowering, sex-positive summer jams – she’s got clever genitalia metaphors for days. But these moments are complemented by darker tales pulled from the artist’s childhood, when she spent years living in homeless shelters. After hearing her spit fire about having to share clothes with friends or watch rats run over her mother’s feet, the calendar-exploding swagger of “33rd” and the horn-fueled sex-work anthem “Barcodes” become more than tracks to dance to. They’re states of mind to aspire to.

17. Drake – More Life

Ever the savvy brand manager, Drake decided to follow up his massively successful 2016 by pursuing a little less market saturation. More Life isn’t exactly a “playlist,” as its cover proclaims. But it is a gorgeously sequenced, decidedly low-stakes affair. The Toronto rapper steps down from his chilly CN Tower perch and ups the Celsius levels with forays into pulsing dancehall, UK grime and Atlanta trap. A lengthy guest list promotes the party atmosphere – Young Thug, Quavo and Skepta are given all the bars they need to steal the show. And whether he’s reflecting on pre-fame Applebees runs or picking through the ruins of a relationship, our headliner sounds more comfortable on the mic than he has in years.

16. Aimee Mann – Mental Illness

When it comes to depicting complicated emotions with just a handful of syllables, Aimee Mann is an all-time great. On her ninth album, Mann unpacks feelings of regret, and abandonment, and stubborn hope, in tight stanzas that shimmer with the clarity of a breakthrough in therapy. “It happens so fast / And then it happens forever,” she sings, immediately breaking the hearts of anyone who wishes they could have that one crucial moment back. Buoyed by cozy strumming-and-strings arrangements, Mental Illness glows with a truly reassuring thought: someone else out there feels this way.

15. Jonwayne – Rap Album Two

The first line on this L.A. rapper’s second album isn’t your typical hip hop boast – “You never seen a man so calm in your life.” Released after the artist announced a break from touring due to his struggles with alcohol, Rap Album Two makes good on that initial claim in low-key, redemptive fashion. Jonwayne is a steady, comforting force as a rapper, his reflective bars gelling with serene, meditative loops. As he pours his heart out about his demons, and how he fears his art will suffer without them, the quiet understanding in his voice makes it obvious it’s not an act. “I need to slow down / But I need a good friend to come and tell me how,” he raps. It takes a significant amount of calm to admit that on wax.

14. King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard – Murder of the Universe

This Australian psychedelic rock septet went on a studio bender in 2017, releasing five full-length albums and showing no signs of letting up. All are worthwhile listens, but Murder of the Universe is the crown jewel – a breathless fusion of propulsive riffs and sci-fi fever dreams that reminds us how fun a concept album can be. As spoken-word narration guides us through tales of human/beast mind-melds, balrog fights and cyborgs who would give anything to understand how it feels to vomit, the Gizzard’s relentless dual-drummer attack feels capable of carrying us anywhere – even to the end of it all.

13. SZA – Ctrl

SZA songs are the sonic embodiment of the phrase “hopeless romantic.” On her striking debut album, she cuts to the quick of how it feels to get cheated on: “I could be your supermodel if you believe / If you see it in me,” she sings to a philandering ex, mourning the self-confidence that could have been. The production is intimate, with little reverb added to contemplative guitar figures and raw, one-take vocals. But there’s a reason this record is called Ctrl. SZA is not wallowing here. She’s settling scores via slow jam, directly confronting assholes by exposing how they’ve hurt her. All while refusing to lose faith in love.

12. Brockhampton – Saturation II

This summer, the self-described hip hop boy band Brockhampton filled up two mixtapes with enough personality and adrenaline to distract the grumpiest pessimist. The first was like hearing young wizards beginning to master their power. On the second, they start wielding their magic. Saturation II finds bandleader Kevin Abstract and producer Romil Hemnani zeroing in on a shared vision: rappers getting shit off their chests over party-ready golden-age beats. It’s compulsively listenable music, full of instantly memorable choruses and effective, cathartic verses. How they made a record featuring seven rappers feel this light is beyond me. All I know is, I want more.

11. Power Trip – Nightmare Logic

God bless the power chord. Just three notes splitting an octave to create a simple, beautiful symmetry. As the Dallas thrash band Power Trip proved this year, these compact sonic gifts can be utilized to brutal, exhilarating ends. These guys aren’t just out to detonate your eardrums on their punishing second LP. Chaos isn’t their game. Instead, Nightmare Logic is a relentless succession of irresistible guitar riffs, which were crafted with as much attention to rhythm as volume level. Whether it’s the chugging eighth notes of “Executioner’s Song” or the circular triplets that kick off “If Not Us Then Who,” this shit swings. As frontman Riley Gale cries out against “the slumber of reason” in his strangled yawp, those power chords roil and slither underneath, girding us for whatever nightmare the world’s gonna belch up next, reminding us of the power inherent in noise.

10. 2 Chainz – Pretty Girls Like Trap Music

2 Chainz has been a reliable source of fun, wordplay-encrusted bangers since “I’m Different” kicked off his second wind in 2012. But the Atlanta veteran has never made a record like this. Pretty Girls Like Trap Music finds the rapper formerly known as “Tity Boi” slipping wistful drug-game reminiscences in between inspired bursts of fantastical materialism (this time he’s got a see-through fridge). His knack for painting pictures is buoyed by a vibrant and versatile slate of beats – the opening “Saturday Night” features a dramatic torch song groove from the always-in-demand Mike Will Made It. “I went to work and I made an abundance / Gucci flip flops with the corns and bunions,” 2 Chainz raps over the sinister synth strings and throbbing bass of “Riverdale Rd.” All that hard work is paying off.

9. Haim – Something to Tell You

If you didn’t already feel grateful for Wilson Phillips, the rise of Haim should correct that problem. On its second album, this trio of California sisters continues to revel in the supermarket pop of yesteryear, harmonizing about big-time emotions over even bigger drums and effervescently processed guitars. The best songs are the singles, which pair catchy choruses with quirky production wrinkles – on “Want You Back,” it’s a horse’s whinny; on “Little of Your Love,” it’s someone falling asleep at the pitch bender. The sum and total of this commitment to fizzy pop hooks is a significant amount of joy. Even during this very, very difficult year, it made me sing in my car like a fool – helping me hold on for one more day.

8. Nnamdi Ogbonnaya – Drool

In 2014, while pursuing a degree in electrical engineering and playing drums in several bands, Nnamdi Ogbonnaya wrote this on his Chicago apartment wall: “You’re not normal, so why are you trying to be?” Three years later, the restless artist turned his focus to rapping and made a record that is thrillingly, definingly weird. Drool weaves together squelching synths, programmed drums and rat-a-tat sing-raps like distorted DNA strands, with Ogbonnaya exploring his full vocal register in the process. It’s not as intimidating as that sounds. “Hop Off” marries thrumming bass with chirping organ runs, and when the rapper enters the fray, we get within a stone’s throw of the radio. It’s purposefully off-kilter, yet easy to enjoy – a sign we’re dealing with a serious talent. We should follow him closely, even if he doesn’t necessarily want us to.

7. Kreator – Gods of Violence

The legendary German thrash band Kreator released its 14th album one week after Inauguration Day. It was a bomb to my headphones, and a balm to my nervous system. “Resistance must rise when freedom has died,” screamed Millie Petrozza in a voice as violent and alive as it was in ’85. Gods of Violence is full of visceral rallying cries like this. It stares fascists in the face, catalogs their sins, and tells them to beware the power of the people, over jet-fuel drums and riffs full of manic, Pixie-stick energy. It’s a goddamn reckoning. And by the time we make it to the penultimate track, “Side By Side,” Petrozza has decided that catharsis isn’t enough. So he makes an oath: “As we crush homophobia / We’ll never let the shame turn our vision to ice / And I’ll remain by your side.”

6. Feist – Pleasure

A decade after a song called “1, 2, 3, 4” made her a star, Leslie Feist is thinking even simpler. Her fourth album, Pleasure, finds new depths within her moonlit folk aesthetic. It’s been six years in the making, and it feels like it’s been in a slow cooker for that entire time. Each arrangement has been boiled down to its essential elements, finding its rhythm in the marrow. The fortunes of “I’m Not Running Away” rest completely on a swaying blues guitar riff, and it’s as exciting as a high wire act. “Any Party” relies on a chorus of non-singers to deliver its grand romantic refrain. “Century” breaks down time itself into its smallest components. And through it all, Feist’s voice is strong and clear, never straining to get its point across. It’s the sound of an artist in complete control.

5. Thundercat – Drunk

Through his session playing alone, bassist Stephen “Thundercat” Bruner has made his mark. Erykah Badu’s New Amerykah and Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp a Butterfly are just a few of the modern classics that have entrusted their low ends to him. But as the cover to his third solo album depicts, the potential of this artist is only beginning to emerge. Drunk is the work of a versatile, funny, kaleidoscopically imaginative songwriter. The music is rooted in his fluid, beautiful bass lines, and it’s one hell of a gumbo: fiery jazz, chittering electronica and straight-faced yacht rock. In a voice that shifts into falsetto with ease, the artist sings about mundane late night rituals and fun Japanese vacations with the same awestruck, childlike energy. As a result, Drunk makes you feel the opposite of wasted.

4. Laura Marling – Semper Femina

Happily ever after is great and all. But if we felt nothing but fairytale bliss, we wouldn’t get to appreciate art that traffics in shades of grey. Like Laura Marling’s stunning sixth album, for example. Each of the nine tracks on Semper Femina takes its own distinct sonic path as it searches for meaning in an unfulfilling relationship. “Soothing” rides a mournfully funky bass line. “The Valley” basks in pastoral acoustics. “Nothing Not Nearly” brings in stabs of fuzzbox guitar. And it’s all tied together by Marling’s empathetic pen. As she deals with love, and loss, and love that doesn’t go away even though it’s lost, she maintains a passion for the whole flawed phenomenon of human coupling that’s as impressive as the impeccably produced surroundings. On the final chorus, Marling makes her mission statement clear, just in case we weren’t paying attention: “Nothing matters more than love.”

3. Pallbearer – Heartless

It’s appropriate that Pallbearer uses Roman numerals instead of typical track numbers on its staggering third album. The Arkansas quartet has written an honest-to-god symphony – a grand, interconnected composition that takes its time to unfurl, demanding to be seen as a whole. Heartless draws a direct line from the cavernous power chords of doom metal to the immersive atmospherics of Pink Floyd’s “Shine On You Crazy Diamond.” In between long, seamless suites of guitar music, which bellows and soothes as it seeks our emotional core, singer Brett Campbell belts gorgeous vocals about the end of the world. It’s like hearing tectonic plates moving, conspiring our demise in ancient, beautiful ways.

2. Kesha – Rainbow

“I’m waiting for my spaceship to come back to me / And I don’t really  care if you believe me,” sings Kesha on her ambitious, assured comeback album. Released in a year when “I believe the women” began to be said out loud, in public, Rainbow is both a zeitgeist-capturing statement of what it means to be a survivor and a canny, genre-bending ’10s pop album par excellence. Kesha deftly augments the pulsing dance-pop we’ve come to expect with elements of arena rock, modern country, piano balladry and twee folk. She belts out sweeping anthems of empowerment, threatens a would-be cheater with a wink and a smile, and looks to the skies for hope, revealing an impressive vocal range for the first time on tape. Rainbow sounds better than anything Kesha ever recorded with her longtime producer Dr. Luke, who the artist sued in 2014 for sexual assault. She lost that lawsuit in all-too-familiar fashion. But no court can stop this album, this free-spirited outpouring of emotion, from inspiring others to believe – in UFOs, in basic human decency, and in themselves.

1. Kendrick Lamar – DAMN

In March 2015, Kendrick Lamar released a song called “How Much a Dollar Cost,” about ignoring a panhandler who turns out to be God. Throughout the sprawling crisis of faith that was his To Pimp a Butterfly album, this was one of the most overt pleas to trust in humanity. Then, a year and a half later, Election Day came to prove him wrong. Lamar didn’t make any public statements after Donald Trump’s victory. I can’t imagine how it’s affected him. But this spring, with the release of his laser-focused fourth album, it became clear that the effect on his art has been extraordinary. Determined instead of conflicted, realistic instead of religious, DAMN outlines a vital artist’s transformed approach to navigating a fucked-up world: Have faith in yourself. It’s a “back to basics” record both psychologically and sonically, where the artist has stripped away everything he can’t count on in the world and started over from there. That’s why DAMN is, to me, the best album of 2017. It’s titanically satisfying music that’s driven by the kind of visceral, personal feeling that will never stop being relevant. “Ain’t nobody praying for me,” the rapper shares, over and over again, throughout this album. The first time he says it, it’s a plea. Eventually it becomes a mantra. By the end, it’s a declaration of independence. We may not be praying for you, Kendrick. But to our great benefit, we’re listening.

Honorable Mentions: 21 Savage, Offset & Metro Boomin – Without Warning; Courtney Barnett & Kurt Vile – Lotta Sea Lice; Beachheads – Beachheads; Big K.R.I.T. – 4eva Is a Mighty Long Time; Bjork – Utopia; Bob Dylan – Triplicate; Hus Kingpin – 16 Waves; Kamaiyah – Before I Wake; Migos – Culture; The Mountain Goats – Goths; Randy Newman – Dark Matter; Angel Olsen – Phases; Syd – Fin; Waxahatchee – Out in the Storm; Young Thug – Beautiful Thugger Girls

Catching Up With King: Bag of Bones

When I moved to Stephen King’s home state of Maine, I thought it would be fun (if a bit cliché) to finally read his books in earnest, and discover how I really feel about his work. For this installment, I took a flier on a lesser-known King novel that just happened to be $2.99 at the used bookstore – Bag of Bones.

What scares Stephen King? Based on what we’ve read so far in this series, we can make some guesses (e.g. cycles of abuse, bathrooms). But after reading his 1998 novel Bag of Bones, and looking into how his career was doing at that time, I think I may have uncovered the big kahuna: Tom Clancy.

In 1997, Penguin Books merged with fellow publishing giant Putnam, bringing King and Clancy under the same roof. At this point in his career, King couldn’t compete with Clancy’s mega-selling espionage thrillers. And he knew it. Here’s what he said to the New York Times in ’98: “I would like to sell. I wanted to have one more book that was big, that felt like I was running the tables in terms of sales. I wanted to knock Tom Clancy out of the No. 1 spot. Like Leonardo DiCaprio, I’m king of the world, even if it’s only for two weeks, whatever. I wanted those things.”

So it’s no coincidence that Bag of Bones is the story of a best-selling author in crisis. At first, it strikes a mournful, self-reflective tone that had me thinking King might actually pull this off. That this massively famous middle-aged man could use his fragile ego as the fuel for something meaningful.

His protagonist, Michael Noonan, has gotten rich writing cookie-cutter thrillers. But it bugs him that they only ever make the lower reaches of the best-seller lists. “If Tom Clancy were to go on hiatus for five years and then bring Jack Ryan back, he’d come back strong, no argument,” his agent warns. “If you go on hiatus for five years, maybe you don’t come back at all.”

When his wife, Johanna, dies suddenly, Noonan goes into a tailspin. He wanders through his Maine farmhouse, insulating himself from others, unable to write.

King is rarely better than when he’s writing about grief, and this is no exception. Like when Noonan finds an old W. Somerset Maugham paperback under the bed, with a playing card used as a bookmark: “It occurred to me that Jo was never going to turn the page and hear Strickland call the pathetic Stroeve a funny little man,” King writes. “I understood it wasn’t a mistake that would be rectified, or a dream from which I would awaken. Johanna was dead.”

If only this entire book had the tone of this quiet, heartbreaking realization. Alas, the lion’s share of Bag of Bones has little to do with it. It’s a panicked, overstuffed, perverted mess. When Noonan moves to his and Jo’s old lake house for a change of scenery, he is immediately swept up in a custody case involving a single mom and a monstrous octogenarian software magnate. Also, the lake house is haunted by ghosts that fight over the refrigerator magnets. Also, there’s a horrible secret that has something to do with an African-American blues singer named Sara Tidwell, whose family and entourage disappeared from this lake town around the turn of the 20th century.

Every single one of these plot points are like cotton balls in our ears, muffling the sounds of real human emotion that the author had so empathetically laid bare. Worse, the custody drama transforms into a romance that would make Woody Allen proud. Noonan comes to the rescue of 21-year-old Mattie Devore and her daughter Kyra, accidentally brushing against her boob the first time they meet, then not-so-accidentally fantasizing about her with uncomfortable intensity, then paying her legal fees for the battle with her cartoonish villain of a father-in-law. Johanna? She’s just one of several ghosts in the lake house, relegated to the background.

Ickiness aside, King is out of control here. Like the ghosts duking it out in the lake house, King’s tangled plot lines strangle any potential points that Bag of Bones could have made. What promised to be a story about harrowing grief and what constitutes fulfillment for a once-idealistic generation, becomes a literal bloody mess. King has to resort to a gruesome deus ex machina to prevent the Mattie/Michael relationship from going “too far.” And the Sara Tidwell secret is truly horrifying, and fairly offensive in how quickly it’s tossed in – like an extra tablespoon of lemon juice in an already sour cocktail.

Bag of Bones does have vestiges of what makes King’s best work resonate so strongly – especially the toxic grief that propels my favorite of his books, Pet Sematary. But for the first time in this column, I’ve seen just how thoroughly he can go off the rails. All evidence points to King going through some kind of crisis while writing Bag of Bones. At the very least, his obsession with sales was screwing with his artistic chemistry, as well as his public image. When his contract was up in 1997, King made the unusual move of going to the press, saying that he wanted a new publisher who would pay him the outrageous sum of $18 million a book. Nobody bit. That, after all, was Clancy money.

THE “CATCHING UP WITH KING” RANKINGS

1. Pet Sematary

2. Carrie

3. The Shining

4. Nightmares & Dreamscapes

5. 11/22/63

6. The Gunslinger

7. Bag of Bones

Top 100 Albums of the ’90s (40-36)

We continue our countdown of the greatest albums to be released in the decade when America thought David Schwimmer was really something. You can check out the full list here.

40. Nirvana – Nevermind (1991)

Nirvana’s second album probably has more baggage than anything on this list. It’s been credited with loosening the Baby Boomers’ stronghold on pop culture, and inspiring the thrift-store fashion and blasé attitude of a new generation. It’s remarkable how little this mountain of hyperbole affects the experience of listening to it today. Sure, Nevermind no longer feels revolutionary – as one of the last world-dominating albums of heavy guitar music, it has more in common with Metallica’s Black Album then originally thought. But it’s as much of a blast as ever, the riffs and melodies gelling in ways that still feel exciting. A major key to this longevity: Kurt Cobain had no shame about letting his influences show, whether they were hip in ’91 or not. So while these songs buzz with the artful noise of The Pixies, they’re also girdered by the pop constructs of The Beatles. And “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” that legacy-defining hit, lifts heavily from a Boston song. As a result, whether we’re hearing the irresistible “yeah yeah” chorus of “Lithium” or the primal screams of “Territorial Pissings,” our urge isn’t to break any rules. It’s to sing along.


39. Me’Shell Ndegéocello – Peace Beyond Passion (1996)

Like most people, the first time I heard Me’Shell Ndegéocello was when she duetted with/propped up John Mellencamp on a smash-hit cover of Van Morrison’s “Wild Night.” Her fluid bass playing breathed new life into one of Morrison’s catchiest riffs, turning a stale idea into one of the funkier things we heard at the supermarket in 1994. Two years later, Ndegéocello’s second solo effort delivered on that song’s promise and then some. Peace Beyond Passion is full of rich, meditative R&B grooves that have only a passing interest in chart success. While her band is full of ringers – Billy Preston on organ, Joshua Redman on sax, Bennie Maupin on bass clarinet – her talents shine brightest. Her bass playing is incredibly expressive. Her singing voice is a deep, reassuring rasp. And her songwriting is bold. I love thinking about all the Mellencamp fans that must’ve checked out the first single – a heartbreaking, six-minute takedown of homophobia called “Leviticus: F****t” that boasts an irresistible three-note groove. It’s an eye-opening lesson about what funk can do. Ndegéocello is totally fine with you dancing to it. Just remember that she’s invited all of humanity to the party.

38. GZA – Liquid Swords (1995)

The sleeve of this record says “GZA,” but it’s hard to think of it that way. Because while Liquid Swords is indeed a showcase for Wu-Tang Clan’s most cerebral, cold-blooded storyteller, it’s even more so for its producer. RZA’s run from ’93 to ’97 was jaw-dropping in both its quality and quantity. It should be spoken of in the same hushed, reverential tone as Brian Wilson’s mid-’60s streak. And Swords is the purest expression of his vision. Dramatic samurai flick dialogue sets the tone for beats that pulse with the dark exhilaration of vengeance fulfilled. On “Duel of the Iron Mic,” chopped pianos and mechanical thunderstorms underscore GZA’s tale of “bloodbaths and elevator shafts.” “Cold World” dresses the melody from Stevie Wonder’s “Rocket Love” in icy, dissonant strings. “4th Chamber” pairs a floating sitar loop with beds of frayed, crunching power chords. These are themes for flawed heroes, navigating a world where violence is unavoidable. “I got your back / But you best go watch your front,” goes the chorus to this album’s first single. On it, RZA fills our speakers with trumpets, as sad and proud as a military funeral.

37. Slayer – Decade of Aggression (1991)

It’s hard to capture the feel of any live show on tape – to transport listeners to that venue, in that moment, without sacrificing the clarity of the performance. But to nail what it felt like to see thrash titans Slayer in 1990? That’s pretty much a goddamn miracle. And it’s what producer Rick Rubin pulled off with this 10th anniversary double-disc set. Not only does Decade of Aggression give us a fantastic mix of the band’s punishing, quicksilver onslaught – so crisp you can hear every syllable hurtling from Tom Araya’s throat – but it gives us just enough of the ambience of venues like the Lakeland Coliseum, smack dab in the center of death metal’s Florida heartland. Rubin lets a full 40 seconds of crowd noise go by until the extended intro of “Hell Awaits” kicks in. A chorus of demons start hissing in a backwards language. Their numbers grow. The volume rises. The anticipation is palpable. Then Jeff Hanneman lays into the hyperactive Sabbath riff, and you can smell the sweat flying from 10,000 dirtbags, headbanging with abandon. No matter where this comes on, in my car or my cubicle, I make it 10,001.

36. Mobb Deep – The Infamous (1995)

The concept of “keeping it real” is about as relevant as raising the roof these days. But Mobb Deep’s second album will always stand as a reminder of just how grim things can get when you take this credo seriously. Emcees Prodigy and Havoc weren’t interested in glorifying the challenges of their day-to-day lives in the Queensbridge projects. So they painted pictures of anxiety and pain, fierce loyalty and sudden loss. Walks home alone at night are pregnant with terror. Decisions aren’t made until potential prison bids are weighed. Yet, completely due to the power of their flow and production that bends piano keys like Twizzlers, The Infamous had hits. There will probably never be another song like “Shook Ones Pt II,” which brought the dark night of the soul to the dance floor. “Ain’t no such things as halfway crooks,” the chorus proclaims over a bewitching, slithering beat. It’s about how the streets leave no room for pretenders. If you’re still sensitive enough to be shaken by life, you don’t know how lucky you are.

The Top 10 Bob Dylan Songs, By Franz List

In the summer of 2000, I was out of college and in a panic – sleeping in my childhood bedroom, bombing interviews and praying my girlfriend would stick with me. It was also the summer I finally “got” Bob Dylan. I made a tape of my dad’s copy of Highway 61 Revisited and wore it out, driving around town with my cheap tie and thin resumé. The music was so urgent and alive, the words pouring out like lava. It made me feel like anything could happenWhich was exactly how I needed to feel.

As you know, a few years later I developed the alter ego Franz List, who has to make pop culture lists even though they’re pointless clickbait that goes against the very idea of art being subjective. He made me share my 10 favorite Beatles songs a while back. And now he’s making me do the same to my professional life coach of yore. Here are my top ten Bob Dylan songs of all time, in the universe, forever:

10. “Love Minus Zero/No Limit” (1965, Bringing It All Back Home)

Both hyper-literate and head-over-heels, this endlessly compelling love song has zero to do with how its subject looks. It’s about her keen intelligence, her zen-like confidence, her easy authenticity in a world of quote-spewing bullshitters. “She knows too much to argue or to judge,” he sings, a self-centered man in awe of his opposite.

9. “From A Buick 6” (1965, Highway 61 Revisited)

Dylan’s band takes a cookie-cutter 12-bar-blues and injects it with cheetah blood, playing so fast and loose as to court chaos. Harvey Brooks’s bass line, steady and life-affirming, keeps it all together until Dylan can bring it home with a locomotive whistle of a harmonica solo. And then, like a child, we yell “Again!”

8. “Buckets of Rain” (1975, Blood on the Tracks)

Two of the biggest stereotypical gripes about Dylan – that he’s a grating singer and limited guitarist – are refuted on this, the graceful coda to his mid-’70s comeback album. His soothing, open-tuned acoustic waltzes gracefully with Tony Brown’s bass, and his voice is deep, gentle and flecked with regret. It’s no wonder he went full-on Sinatra 40 years later.

7. “Positively 4th Street” (1965, single)

Dylan had a lotta nerve to release this as a single. Because despite its sunny folk-rock chords and frolicsome organ runs, “Positively 4th Street” is one of the bitterest songs in pop history. Yet this alchemy of hooks and burns proved to be irresistible – it was a hit, and deservedly so. If you’ve ever had a shitty friend, get ready for a candy-coated catharsis.

6. “Tonight I’ll Be Staying Here With You” (1969, Nashville Skyline)

Sometimes love can stop you in your tracks so hard that you’re giving away your train ticket. Dylan uses this bulletproof sentiment to close out his sweet, underrated country gentleman album, wooing his crush like a Tennessee Romeo.

5. “Most of the Time” (recorded in 1989, released on 2008’s The Bootleg Series, Vol 8: Tell Tale Signs)

Dylan pulls the same trick that Hoagy Carmichael did with “I Get Along Without You Very Well,” bragging about how he’s over someone while proving just the opposite. I prefer this stripped down alternate take to the glossier version that ended up on Oh Mercy. It’s as stark as a December oak.

4. “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right” (1963, The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan)

Take a look at the lyrics to this timeless breakup song, and its songwriter seems like a bit of a dick. A more accurate title would be “It’s All Your Fault, But Don’t Freak Out or Anything.” But pair these words with the cascading finger-picked guitar of a 22-year-old Bob Dylan, and have them sung in his wise-beyond-its-years tenor, and this lack of empathy is exposed as a thin tough-guy facade. Behind it is heartbreak, pure and true.

3. “Like A Rolling Stone” (1965, Highway 61 Revisited)

“How does it feel?” Dylan asks on his most iconic song. He likely meant it in a cutting way, as a “get a load of me now” dig at an ex. But the music says otherwise. The rising major scale of the verses, the swirling organ of the choruses – it’s utterly, vibrantly optimistic. Enough that the artist deserves a straight answer. How does it feel? It feels like an acid trip in a botanical garden. It feels like waking up in Oz. It feels like discovering electricity.

2. “Not Dark Yet” (1997, Time Out of Mind)

Dylan wrote this song on a Minnesota farm in the wintertime. It had been seven years since he’d recorded anything of note, decades since his last masterpiece. Whether it was creative frustration, bruised ego, or just the weather, he was in an uncharacteristically confessional mood. “Not Dark Yet” is an admission of frailty, striking in its simplicity, stunning in its beauty. “I feel like my soul has turned into steam,” he shares, guitars and keyboards drifting around him like ghosts. Ironically, it was irrefutable evidence that he had so much more to give.

1. “Stuck Inside of Mobile With the Memphis Blues Again” (1966, Blonde On Blonde)

This is the apex of Bob Dylan’s artistic maturation, his transformation from strident folkie to impenetrable rock enigma. A seven-minute carnival ride through thickets of metaphors, “Stuck Inside of Mobile With the Memphis Blues Again” is both impossible to parse and instantly mesmerizing – its circular blues groove, peppered with organ and harmonica, could go on for an hour without losing its power. While the verses make us consider Shakespeare, dead grandpas and vampiric railroad workers, the chorus is a plea so basic, it could’ve come from a child: “Mama, is this really the end?” In a way, it was. Two months after Blonde On Blonde was released, Dylan got in a motorcycle accident and receded from the public eye. Subsequent albums looked backward at the Americana that inspired him. He’d release incredible music in the decades to come (he still is), but nothing so exhilarating, so tapped into the magnetic and frightening possibilities of American life. At any point during Dylan’s peak, the music sounded like it could go off the rails. It’s the sound of risks paying off, of taking chances that get you places. He may have felt like he was stuck in Mobile, but he was teaching us how to get the hell out and live.

Catching Up With King: “Carrie”

When I moved to Stephen King’s home state of Maine, I thought it would be fun (if a bit cliché) to finally read his books in earnest, and discover how I really feel about his work. For this installment, I made sure to cover up my dirty pillows before cracking open King’s stunning, heartbreaking debut novel – Carrie.

“Jesus watches from the wall / But his face is cold as stone
And if he loves me / As she tells me
Why do I feel so all alone?”
― Stephen King, Carrie

I’ve always taken pride in buying tampons for my wife. It’s incontrovertible proof that not only does this woman live with me, but that she actually likes me for real. If she’s comfortable with my involvement in one of her most intimate routines, I must be doing something right.

Society tells me I’m not supposed to feel this way. A woman’s menstrual cycle is supposedly TMI. God forbid she brings it up at dinner. Why are men so afraid of women that we’ve done all we can to stigmatize such a natural biological truth? Is it jealousy of the ability to create life? A frantic attempt to hold onto the overwhelming privilege we’ve enjoyed for millennia? Whatever the reason, it’s an established fact: Men fear the flow.

In 1974, a year after Roe v. Wade, Stephen King leveraged these patriarchal fears to create a horror classic. Carrie is the story of a long-suffering high school girl who gets her period, learns that she’s powerful, and takes horrible revenge. Dudes who were scared shitless of Gloria Steinem were definitely going to have to change their underwear after reading this.

We meet Carrie White on one of the worst days of her life. She gets her period for the first time, in the high school locker room, in front of her merciless bullies. Not only that, but thanks to her deranged, fire-and-brimstone-spewing “momma,” Carrie had never heard of menstruation. So while her classmates behave like wolves at a slaughter, yelling “plug it up” and pelting her with tampons, Carrie is also afraid she might be dying. Her gym teacher, Miss Desjardin, isn’t much help. “She certainly would have denied that she regarded Carrie as a fat, whiny bag of lard,” King writes. “A first-year teacher, she still believed that she thought all children were good.” Later, Carrie’s mother blames her, beats her and forces her into a closet, to atone for her feminine “weakness.”

But there’s a moment in this day, occasioned by those spontaneous gym class horrors, that allows Carrie something she rarely gets. A moment of calm. The principal sends her home early, hours before her mother’s laundry shift is over. “Alone,” she marvels. It’s the only moment in this story that she gets completely to herself, where the imaginary laws of high school (fat girls are bad) and Christianity (all girls are bad) aren’t bearing down on her. And as it turns out, it’s one of the last days that Carrie, and her hometown of Chamberlain, Maine, will know peace.

As King’s first published novel, Carrie gives us a look at how the author approached his craft pre-fame. He’s never been more laser-focused on plot. Perhaps he hadn’t developed enough confidence in his ability to flesh out a world, or maybe he thought straying from the action would hurt his manuscript’s chances. Because these 290 pages are absolutely filler-free. Characters get minimal backstories. We learn nothing at all about the town. It’s just the walls closing steadily, relentlessly in on Carrie White. There’s nothing we can do about it, except mourn her inevitable fate, and marvel at her power.

“What none of them knew, of course, was that Carrie White was telekinetic,” King writes, matter-of-factly, on page 4. It’s important that we’re armed with this knowledge that Carrie can move things with her mind. From the beginning, we know that everybody is underestimating her – they’re literally playing with fire. It’s a source of hope that she could rise above these bullies at school and home. And it’s a metaphor for the power inside every marginalized person, whose outrage is the potential fuel for change.

When guilt-ridden classmate Sue Snell decides to atone for Plug-It-Up-Gate by having her archetypal boyfriend Tommy Ross ask Carrie to the prom, Carrie ignores her instincts and says yes. The walls continue to close.

Meanwhile, Chris Hargensen, alpha bully and spoiled attorney’s daughter, and her legit psycho boyfriend Billy Nolan, have a heartless and disgusting plan to break Carrie White once and for all – a stage adaptation of her locker room shame that involves buckets of pig’s blood. King accentuates the true criminal depravity going on here, how it’s much, much worse than anything that could be labeled a “prank,” by taking us along on the trip where Billy and a few buddies break into a farm in the dark of night and slit the throats of two pigs. The inevitability of the story structure makes it clear that this plan will work.

Nothing I’ve read from King so far has been as heartbreaking as Carrie’s prom night. She waits nervously for Tommy to pick her up, immune to her mother’s rants about dirty pillows and roadhouses. Tommy doesn’t just show, he treats her with genuine respect, telling her she’s beautiful and meaning it.

As the night goes on, hope awakens. She has a legitimate rapport with her date; she gets compliments on the dress she made herself; she cracks a few jokes that land. “She felt something very old and rusty loosen inside her,” King describes. “A warmth came with it. Relief. Ease.”

Of course, that feeling was going to be short-lived. Not only does the pig’s blood plot go off without a hitch, dousing the newly crowned Carrie and killing Tommy with a bucket to the skull, but the crowd laughs at the gory display. She runs, and somebody trips her. She keeps running until she reaches a field, losing her shoes along the way like Bram Stoker’s Cinderella. And in this moment, with her only options to return to the cackling devils at school or go home to a mother who is waiting patiently with a butcher knife, she wishes for death.

And then remembers her power.

King describes the destruction of Chamberlain with the same efficiency as the rest of his debut novel, and the effect is chilling. Mocked and denigrated for her life-giving body, Carrie uses it to create death instead, raining fire on her abusers like the Book of Revelations made flesh. Bodies do stunted, electrified dances. Charred corpses smell like pork.

If only this town had empathized with somebody who had it hard at home. If only they hadn’t been so cruel about something so natural. Maybe then they wouldn’t have blood coming out of their wherever.

Up next, we tackle a book I’d never heard of before buying it used for $2.99 – 1998’s small-town soap opera Bag of Bones.

THE “CATCHING UP WITH KING” RANKINGS

1. Pet Sematary

2. Carrie

3. The Shining

4. Nightmares & Dreamscapes

5. 11/22/63

6. The Gunslinger