The Top 100 Albums of the ’90s (10-6)

So here we are, gang. Ten albums left. Can you believe it? It’s only taken me eight years to get here! EFFICIENCY. These next five LPs certainly meant a lot to me as a mumbling high school and college student who smelled weird because he’d never learned to wash properly.

ATribeCalledQuestTheLowEndtheory10. A Tribe Called Quest – The Low End Theory (1991)

In 1991, it was getting harder to disregard rap music as a fad. A year earlier, “Ice Ice Baby” and “U Can’t Touch This” gave the world a preview of the genre’s inevitable crossover dominance. (On the day I’m writing this, 9 of the top 20 songs on the Billboard Hot 100 come from rappers.) A Tribe Called Quest was decidedly not celebrating this. “Rap is not pop / If you call it that, then stop,” scolded rapper/producer Q-Tip on the Queens trio’s second LP. Here were young artists on the cusp of stardom, who had already landed a hit by sampling “Walk On the Wild Side,” abandoning that path and consciously pursuing a different type of hook – anchored in the syncopations of jazz and the pentameters of poetry. “Don’t you know that things move in cycles?” Q-Tip asks his father on his iconic opening verse, openly acknowledging that this new and exciting genre was indebted to the record and book collections of generations past. And with this bold, anthropological mission driving them, Tribe recorded some of the wisest, funkiest, most sweepingly joyful rap songs in history. Tip and the forever-underrated Phife Dawg trade bars about everything from growing up together to dealing with psychotic A&R guys, giving other artists a blueprint for their own careers. They were never pop stars as a result. They’ll just have to settle for being legends.

220px-Pnyc9. Portishead – Live from Roseland, NYC (1998)

Of the handful of James Bond movies I’ve seen, my favorite parts are the songs. A talented vocalist belts their guts out, their voice trembling with emotion, the minor-key arrangement inevitably boiling over with a scalding spray of brass. Then the director credit fades, along with that feeling. Because James Bond is about as passionate as a cold shower. The Terminator feels more. A love of Bond themes was central to the aesthetic of Portishead, the Bristol trip-hop pioneers who combined throwback ’60s horn and string charts with blasts of synthetic noise and head-spinning displays of record scratching.  But it was singer Beth Gibbons that made the trio so much more than a formula. She approached these songs like a self-aware Shirley Bassey, who knows that these intense feelings are unrequited, marveling at the energy she can muster for one so undeserving. And Live from Roseland, NYC is the ultimate document of her achievement. Backed by a full orchestra, which gives Portishead’s ambitiously cinematic sound the dynamic scope it deserves – from whispering strings to trammeling trombones – Gibbons sings with the concentrated energy of a spirit trying to move something corporeal. “I can’t hold this day / Anymore,” she bemoans on “Over,” as a lone guitar delivers a two-note eulogy. By the end of that song, its singer is wailing; the orchestra is at triple fortissimo; the DJ is scratching like there’s bugs in the vinyl. And we are both shaken, and stirred.

Magnolia_album8. Aimee Mann – Magnolia: Music from the Motion Picture (1999)

The soundtrack album for the film Magnolia – Paul Thomas Anderson’s indulgent masterpiece about the intersecting lives of despairing Californians – contains tracks from four different artists. Yet it’s credited, right there on the cover, to Aimee Mann. This is entirely appropriate, because Anderson has admitted that Mann’s lyrics heavily influenced these stories. At one point, Melora Walters’s character delivers the first line of “Deathly” in conversation: “Now that I’ve met you / Would you object to / Never seeing each other again?” That line is peak Mann, untangling the complicated internal lives of the victimized in a handful of syllables. Like the movie, she makes sure to let pinpricks of hope shine through over the course of nine tracks, making the sadness ring even truer. The richly layered folk arrangements have the color palette of a sunset – nuances of warmth form a halo around Mann’s steady, reassuring voice. And songs like the Oscar-nominated “Save Me” express a stubborn, foundational belief in romantic alchemy – broken hearts can find understanding souls. And when they do, they fuse together to create something new, and strong, and good. The balance of the Magnolia soundtrack is also spot-on – a pair of Supertramp classics about self-actualization and its aftermath; the cheerful self-help R&B of Gabrielle’s “Dreams”; the fairy-tale malaise of Jon Brion’s theme. But this soundtrack belongs to one person, who suspects they could never love anyone, singing songs that will immediately appeal to anyone who ever has.

https___images.genius.com_0e92782dd80e4fc1b0ea056705fba60b.1000x1000x17. Erykah Badu – Baduizm (1997)

When Motown label head Kedar Massenburg introduced the term “neosoul” to describe artists like D’Angelo and Erykah Badu, it was marketing at its emptiest. And most successful. “Neosoul” records, of which Baduizm remains the gold standard, were actually “retrosoul” records – summoning the organic warmth of ’70s Motown while supposedly slighting the slick, rap-influenced R&B that was ruling the charts. It was a white lie to make traditionalists feel like they weren’t out of touch. Lulled by Badu’s nightclub jazz arrangements and laconic, Billie Holiday drawl, they probably never picked up on just how much this Dallas singer, songwriter and iconically headwrapped Soulquarian loved hip hop. “You rush into destruction cause you don’t have nothing left / The mothership can’t save you so your ass is gon’ get left,” Badu sings with the swaggering syncopation of a rapper, on Baduizm‘s first single, “On & On.” This quiet confidence propels her performance throughout, as she dismisses those who dismiss her intelligence, confronts a guy who tries to roofie her, and wrestles with the risks of loving a drug dealer. Her songs and the way she sings them elevate the midtempo jazz vamps that are Baduizm‘s stock in trade. Also like a rapper, she turns to bass lines for guidance, wrapping her syllables around them until they become indelible earworms. In the process, Badu made an intergenerational soul album that reassured her elders, inspired countless rappers, poets and R&B singers, and wove a spell that holds to this day. It was something new, after all.

220px-Radiohead.okcomputer.albumart6. Radiohead – OK Computer (1997)

Countless rock bands have written songs about life on the road. Because touring is what bands do, and you write about what you know. But no artist has used their experience on tour to communicate larger metaphors as effectively as Radiohead did on its third album. Singer/songwriter Thom Yorke mined some terrifying and disorienting travel experiences for material, resulting in songs about car and plane crashes, insane thoughts in tight spaces, and grabbing your bags before dawn in a panic. “Transport, motorways and tramlines / Starting and then stopping / Taking off and landing / The emptiest of feelings,” he observes. But this is not an album about airports. By taking that odd sense of disconnection we feel while traveling and applying it to our relationships with our bosses, political representatives, and inner selves, OK Computer tapped into a creeping cultural malaise that would eventually overtake us. Listening today, its themes resonate as strongly as ever, pulled from the brink of fatalism time and again by the music, which is as towering and tender as the band has ever sounded. The six-minute anti-capitalist epoch “Paranoid Android” shifts from buzzsaw guitar screaming to a spine-tingling choral breakdown, giving Gen X its own “Stairway to Heaven” moment in the process. On “Let Down” and “Subterranean Homesick Alien,” Jonny Greenwood’s clean guitar sounds wash over Yorke’s dour observations like cleansing foam. And the arrangement on “No Surprises,” featuring a major-scale glockenspiel loop that could just as easily have been whistled, sounds like brainwashing feels – just a little too perfect. As a result, Radiohead made an album about hopelessness that achieved unforeseen levels of melodic uplift. Like a plane that’s just left the ground, it’s a miracle. One that doesn’t give us much room to breathe.

August’s Bestest Songs

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Here are my favorite tracks from August 2019, during which I spent a glorious week in Western Newfoundland, listening to Bill Callahan sing about romantic contentment with the person I love, creating a feedback loop of bliss that has carried me to this very moment. September, you’ve got your work cut out for you.


1. Donny Benét – “Second Dinner”

Over an irresistible midnight snack of a post-disco groove, this Aussie sings about his preferred pathway to pleasure these days – overeating.

2. BROCKHAMPTON – “Boy Bye”

Confessional millennial lounge-rap realness.

3. Sheer Mag – “Blood from a Stone”

This Philly quartet doesn’t just re-create 1970s working-man hard-rock like some novelty act. Singer Tina Halladay gives the supposedly tired sound an adrenaline shot to the heart, to the point where you can almost smell the spilled Miller on your Dickies.

4. Rosalía (feat. Ozuna) – “Yo x Ti, Tu x Mi”

Steel drums and iron-clad devotion were meant to be paired.

5. Esther Rose – “Only Loving You”

Some things never lose their power. Like starry-eyed country songs that rhyme “I love you” with “It’s true.”

6. Young Thug (feat. Lil Baby) – “Bad Bad Bad”

When Young Thug is at his best, every syllable is a hook. When he raps about rose gold helicopter seats on “Bad Bad Bad,” it’s not just an insanely evocative depiction of wealth – it’s a goddamn singalong.

7. Normani – “Motivation”

If an early-’00s R&B revival is upon us, I am here for it.

8. King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard – “Planet B”

These Aussie psych-rock weirdos just released their seventh LP in three years. But instead of jumping the shark, they’ve become a shark jumping at us, screaming about our dying planet over ’80s-throwback thrash-metal riffs.

9. Rapsody (feat.a Leikeli47) – “Oprah”

These bars about circulating your wealth through the world, paired with that boom-bap stand-up bass loop? It’s the thrill of winning a car, in sonic form.

10. Miranda Lambert – “Bluebird”

Miranda Lambert singing about resilience will always be a good thing: “Don’t like where I’m at, 34 was bad / So I just turn to 35.”

11. Missy Elliott – “Throw It Back”

The world is less vibrant when Missy Elliott isn’t dropping singles. And wouldn’t you know it, the sky just got bluer.

12. Lana Del Rey – “The Greatest”

This just in: Lana Del Rey’s writing has officially caught up with her persona. Over a weepy classic rock chord progression that Martin Scorsese will be tempted to use over an extended montage, Del Rey sings about a failed relationship with poetic authenticity.  That would be enough. But then she goes on to capture the devastating ennui of the present, more concisely than any songwriter I’ve heard this year: “LA’s in flames, it’s getting hot / Kanye West is blond and gone / ‘Life On Mars’ ain’t just a song.”

July’s Bestest Songs

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Here are my favorite tracks from July 2019, a month in which it got so hot that I would’ve killed to have a fever of 103º. (Foreigner, you had no idea.)

1. Purple Mountains – “Maybe I’m the Only One for Me”

This delightfully suicidal sad-sack country jaunt from ex-Silver Jews frontman David Berman will have you LOLAL-ing (laughing out loud about loneliness): “If no one’s fond of fucking me / Maybe no one’s fucking fond of me.”

2. YBN Cordae (feat. Anderson .Paak) – “RNP”

This optimistic Chicago newcomer is full of the kind of easy charisma that Chance the Rapper gave up for lent back in 2016. This track pairs him with Anderson .Paak in full guest-spot assassin mode, over a beat that sounds like The Neptunes producing “If I Ruled the World.”

3. Bleached – “Heartbeat Away”

Sober people deserve fist-pumping, scream-along Camaro rock too.

4. Charli XCX (feat. Christine and the Queens) – “Gone”

“It feels so cold in here / I am just now realizing they don’t care,” belts Charli XCX on this triumphant dance-pop duet, using her social anxiety to fuel a flight to incandescent heights.

5. Maxo Kream – “Pray 2 the Dope”

Nobody’s telling stories like Maxo these days. On this one, he raps about working at Panera Bread. It’s riveting.

6. Bat for Lashes – “Feel for You”

Over an undulating swirl of ’80s synths and drum machines, Natasha Khan repeats the same two lines – “I love you / I feel for you.” Sometimes honesty trumps poetry.

7. Ty Segall – “Ice Plant”

The prolific garage rocker leaves the guitar in its case on this a cappella ballad, his unpolished harmonies trembling like emotions laid bare.

8. ShooterGang Kony – “Charlie”

It’s been awhile since rappers leaned on straightforward funk loops to further embolden their swagger. Here’s proof they should do it more.

9. Angel Olsen – “All Mirrors”

One of our most dynamic singer/songwriters seems to be going full, mid-’80s, peak-era Kate Bush, and I’m here for it.

10. High on Fire – “Into the Crypts of Rays”

Is there anything more metal than starting a song with 22 seconds of screaming? Sludge legends High On Fire have done this, and the effect is like one of those Benedictine Monk CDs from the ’90s. At around the :15 mark, the screams start to sound more like a chorus, beckoning us to a higher plane. And then the universe explodes.

11. Lil Nas X (feat. Billy Ray Cyrus, Young Thug and Mason Ramsey) – “Old Town Road (Remix)”

“Old Town Road,” a country track recorded by a gay black man, is not just the longest-running #1 song in pop history. It’s a miracle of sonic science, mutating into different forms at all times, beginning with Billy Ray Cyrus’s savvy remix and moving on to inspire artists like Cupcakke, RM from the Korean boy band BTS, Young Thug, and possibly Dolly Parton. LNX’s song has more than a catchy Trent Reznor banjo loop going for it – its positivity and disregard for labels is even more of hook. How else could Thugga and the yodeling Walmart kid sound so damn good together? I hope it’s #1 forever.

June’s Bestest Songs

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Here are my favorite tracks from June 2019, a time when I would usually chase those delicious clicks and list my Songs of the Summer. But nobody ever clicked. It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s fine! It’s fine. I don’t need you anyhow. JUST WATCH ME NOT CARE.

1. Prince – “Sex Shooter”

This never-before-heard demo of Purple Rain-era Prince, laying down a song he would give to Apollonia 6 to perform in his movie, is as excellent as you’d hope – a pop-funk workout so erotically charged, even the puns are sexy.

2. Sleater-Kinney – “Hurry On Home”

“Disconnect me from my bones,” pleads Carrie Brownstein on this lustful synth-rock scorcher, foregoing the “you up?” routine in favor of complete emotional transparency.

3. Goldlink (ft. Haile) – “Yard”

This chameleonic DC rapper made this list last month by applying his sinuous flow to an Afropop groove. Here, he does it with dancehall, eradicating bad vibes like a sonic exorcist.

4. Kim Petras – “Clarity”

Shimmering, flex-laden 2019 pop meets Pete Townshend’s “Let My Love Open the Door.”

5. Nicki Minaj – “Megatron”

The legend returns with her best single in five years, an island-inflected banger that plays to all her strengths, leaving the scents of rum and Mercedes leather in the air.

6. Hatchie – “Her Own Heart”

An Alternative Nation dream-pop ballad that sounds like The Cranberries getting The Bends.

7. Freddie Gibbs & Madlib (feat. Anderson .Paak) – “Giannis” 

I’m still reeling from seeing Anderson .Paak perform back in May. And his gliding croon and formidable bars are perfectly suited to this twinkling groove from Madlib. But that doesn’t stop the Indiana rapper Freddie Gibbs from outshining them both.

8. Lucy Dacus – “Forever Half Mast”

“Yes you’re evil but you’re not that bad,” goes the chorus to Lucy Dacus’s July 4th-inspired single. Over rich Americana strumming, Dacus nails the guilt of being from the richest, most damaging nation on earth, and loving it all the same.

9. Zara Larsson – “All the Time”

At first, Zara Larsson’s latest single feels like a swing at the Song of the Summer crown.  “Summertime and I’m caught in the feeling,” she sings over the roboticized, irresistible mantra, “From the breaking of the day to the middle of night.” But this isn’t about partying at all.

10. Bill Callahan – “What Comes After Certainty”

Magic is for rom-coms. The real shit, the chills-up-your-spine shit, is knowing, without a doubt, that you have found your person.

May’s Bestest Songs

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Here are my favorite tracks from May 2019, the month we all celebrated the 10th anniversary of the movie Angels & Demons. We savored Ron Howard’s direction of Tom Hanks’s wig in The Da Vinci Code. But Howsie & Hanksie took us even higher in ’09. Angels & Demons, available now in 4K Blu-Ray.

1. Denzel Curry – “Ricky”

Conflicting parental advice has never slapped like this.

2. Carly Rae Jepsen – “Everything He Needs”

Harry Nilsson’s “He Needs Me,” as sung by Shelley Duvall in Popeye, is sacred ground, one of the greatest songs ever written about how love can translate into self-worth. So there’s only one way to explain how Carly Rae Jepsen has been able to interpolate “He Needs Me” into a breezy, sex-positive, lite-disco jaunt, without jettisoning its emotional weight – she is a pop music magician.

3. Jamila Woods – “Giovanni”

Jamila Woods kicks off her Nikki Giovanni tribute song with an appropriately bad-ass couplet – “You might want to hold my comb / When you find out what I’m made of.” Her voice floats just behind the beat, smirking with its collar popped.

4. Megan Thee Stallion – “Realer”

Right now, nobody on earth is rapping with more authority than Houston emcee Megan Thee Stallion. On “Realer,” she wields syllables like free weights, knocking us out at the end of every couplet, while only getting stronger for the next one.

5. Flying Lotus – “Say Something”

Nestled in the back half of electro-visionary Flying Lotus’s sprawling new LP lies this weird-ass piano instrumental, which could soundtrack a quirky British crime procedural. I would watch the shit out of that show.

6. Bill Callahan – “Morning Is My Godmother”

Bill Callahan, one of our finest living songwriters, has a new album out in June – his first in six years. His voice still sounds like whiskey aged in a hickory barrel, and he’s still writing about nature like Thoreau with better weed.

7. Tyler, the Creator – “Earfquake”

Ever since he rode a tired shock-rap provocateur act to fame in 2009, I’ve actively avoided Tyler, the Creator’s music. I’ve clearly missed one hell of an evolution. He’s moved on, both sonically and self-consciously, sounding vulnerable, and inspired, and free.

8. Vampire Weekend – “Sympathy”

Like many a classic double LP, Vampire Weekend’s Father of the Bride is designed to reveal its riches over time. One of these growers has been the mid-album spazz-out “Sympathy,” which pairs a four-on-the-floor groove with acoustic flourishes, megaphone-feedback-drenched breakdowns, and references to Diego Garcia and “arrogant mosquitoes.”

9. Idle Hands – “Nightfall”

If you like your Satan worshipping with a spoonful of sugar, don’t sleep on these Portland, OR, occult rockers. “Nightfall” has hooks to rival The Cure and Blue Oyster Cult, along with an irresistible dark energy all its own. So grab your sacrificial daggers – and dance!

10. Ider – “Wu Baby”

Religious imagery will always be a compelling way to talk about romantic obsession. So when this London duo sings “I prayed all of my love to you / Can you feel it?” over a moody electro-pop synthscape, it feels like more than a crush. This is faith, in all its intoxicating, terrifying vulnerability.

11. Goldlink (feat. Maleek Berry & Bibi Bourelly) – “Zulu Screams”

Over an unrelenting, percussive Afropop beat, Goldlink doesn’t drop rhymes. He pours them, his preternatural flow a tributary to oceans of hooks, rhythms, and overwhelmingly good vibes.

12. Lana Del Rey – “Doin’ Time”

For the first time in a long time, it feels good to be a Sublime fan. Lana Del Rey’s cover of Bradley Nowell’s dreamy, Gershwin-meets-Snoop toxic relationship fable is a summer playlist no-brainer.

Top 100 Albums of the ’90s (15-11)

OMG, we’re uncomfortably close to the end of this crazy countdown! Here are five albums that I adored in my underachieving, ironic-tee-shirt-wearing youth, and are only getting better with age. (You can check out the whole list here.)

51Cy7Aj+XdL15. The Flaming Lips – The Soft Bulletin (1999)

On a trip to Hawaii a few years back, my wife got bit by what we thought was a spider. The bite kept getting worse, so we called poison control. I was scared shitless that I was going to lose my person, while surrounded by the most vibrantly alive environment I’d ever seen. The Flaming Lips must’ve known this feeling. Because their masterpiece, The Soft Bulletin, is full of songs that are acutely aware of life’s impermanence. Yet they’re surrounded by optimistic, awe-inspiring orchestral arrangements that do justice to the laziest Pet Sounds reference. And oh yeah, there’s literally a song called “The Spiderbite Song,” which does not require a personal encounter with potentially deadly insects to appreciate. Producer Dave Fridmann goes borderline Disney with the arrangement, slathering it with trilling harps and tinkling pianos. Yet it’s a delivery system for a raw-as-hell truth – love and devastation are a switch, and it can be flipped by the tiniest twist of fate. “If it destroyed you / It would destroy me,” admits Wayne Coyne on the chorus, balancing the scales without dispelling the magic. My wife’s bite turned out to be from a non-poisonous scorpion, further proof that she’s a total bad-ass. But I’ll always feel a little bit shaken by the memory. Hearing Coyne’s voice, trembling with relief as it floats high above these flourishing soundscapes, it’s impossible to not be moved. Because at any moment, it could’ve fallen.

https___images.genius.com_658097527d975ba15bcaca96999f5f5e.500x500x114. Beck – Mutations (1998)

These days it’s common knowledge that Beck Hansen is a singer/songwriter capable of incredible pathos. But the first time I heard Mutations, I had no idea. The crate-digging hipster earthquake of Odelay was still ringing in my ears. So I was floored by this collection of languid folk and country sway-alongs, its rich, organic warmth somehow unscathed by an aggressively bleak lyric sheet (“We ride disowned / Corroded to the bone”). Nigel Godrich, fresh off producing OK Computer, buoys Beck’s tender crooning with reassuring swaths of synths, sitars, and harpsichords. Friendly, almost amateurish harmonica solos add to the humanity. And while there are no donkey samples or rapped non-sequiturs, Beck’s quirks are all over this album, giving it a ramshackle, lived-in feel. “Canceled Check” ends with the band having a collective stroke, randomly bashing on things. The hidden track “Diamond Bollocks” leaps between seething Stooges riffage and gentle birdsong. And his lyrical flights are as strikingly weird as ever: “A desolate wind / Turns shit to gold / And blows my soul crazy.” To encounter all of this unexpectedly was like having a profound conversation with somebody you thought you knew. Realizing there’s way more to them than you thought. And looking forward to hearing from them again.

buhloone mindstate13. De La Soul – Buhloone Mindstate (1993)

Grunge bands got tons of credit for rejecting the spoils of stardom in the 1990s. But none of them explored this conflict on tape quite like De La Soul, who made entire concept albums about what it meant to be a rap star. They called their second LP De La Soul Is Dead, shattering the cuddly, neo-hippie image that made them famous. A few years later, they dropped Buhloone Mindstate, its title borne from a stated desire to “blow up, but not go pop.” It sounds like what it is – a rap group at the peak of its powers, trying its hardest to not make hits. So we get thickets of ’70s soul and ’80s rap samples, live horns, and clips from the movie The Five Heartbeats (all of which appear on the monumental “Patti Dooke”). Maceo Parker gets five minutes to just solo. Same for the Japanese rap trio Scha Dara Parr, who get a stripped down drumbeat to freak out over. And then there’s Posdnous, De La’s de facto leader, who makes sure we’ve got our seatbelt on during all these thrilling left turns. He overstuffs his verses with introspective journeys and biting social commentary, stating his case clearly and prolifically. “I am Posdnous / I be the new generation of slaves / Here to make papes to buy a record exec rakes,” he shares on “I Am I Be,” doing justice to the authenticity of that title. It’s lovely how much De La Soul cared about this stuff. They stayed true to themselves in the spotlight, exposed who was really benefitting from their hard work, and channeled it all into groundbreaking, revivifying music. It’s been 26 years, and it’s still blowing up.

https___images.genius.com_f08464da62a15725b3ea3a6a0a4c2da4.1000x1000x112. PJ Harvey – To Bring You My Love (1995)

Countless Westerns end with their male leads going out in a blaze of glory, because they valued their own concept of justice  over anything else. On her third album, PJ Harvey had had enough of that shit. To Bring You My Love is written from the perspective of the women in these stories, those unconsidered widows and jilted lovers whose existential pain is usually seen as acceptable collateral damage. “I love him longer / As each damn day goes / The man is gone / And heaven only knows,” she sings on the album’s final song, establishing the permanence of grief before the music fades. Her narrators plead with everyone from Jesus to a deadbeat dad named Billy. They travel “over dry earth and floods.” And on the mesmerizing murder ballad “Down By the Water,” they drown their own child and blame it on the fish. Harvey, making her first album as a solo artist, comes into her own as a producer, creating atmospheres worthy of these raw, gothic tales. Almost every riff is a simple pentatonic phrase, a shard of the blues poking through the skin of the session. And it’s all in full mourning dress, thanks to slow tempos, low, burbling organs, and heavy swaths of distortion – imagine Violator-era Depeche Mode doing an album of John Lee Hooker covers. “See it coming / At my head / I’m not running / I’m not scared,” she sings, both as a character with a death wish and a songwriter in complete control of her gifts. Our concept of bravery doesn’t always have to be a cowboy perishing in a rain of bullets. It can be an artist doing exactly what she wants.

SmashingPumpkins-SiameseDream11. Smashing Pumpkins – Siamese Dream (1993)

In the summer of ’96, when Smashing Pumpkins was the biggest band on earth, I saw them deliver an unforgettable set of high-decibel melodrama. During the second encore, the band unleashed “Silverfuck,” the incendiary 8-minute shredfest from Siamese Dream. At the end, instead of smashing his guitar, Billy Corgan sat down on the stage and methodically took it apart, unfazed by the screeching feedback of this little experiment. It’s the perfect metaphor for what made Siamese Dream the greatest LP to ever be labeled “grunge.” Corgan was a neurotic guitar geek, and he used the Siamese Dream sessions to indulge in his obsession, foregoing sleep and the respect of his bandmates to ensure every blast of distortion met with his vision. In the process, he invented his own wall of sound – a steady thrum of multi-tracked guitars that flood our eardrums like bagpipes from heaven. (The only instrument he didn’t personally touch were the drums, probably because Jimmy Chamberlin was one of the best rock drummers on earth in ’93.) Unlike the ragged emotional outpourings coming out of Seattle, this was unapologetically fussy rock music, best experienced on pricey headphones with your eyes closed. Despite the darkness of Corgan’s lyrics – even the hits are cries for help – the majesty of his sonic vision lifts all boats. When he sings, “Today is the greatest day I’ve ever known,” he means the opposite. But the way those guitars ring as they deliver the hook? It makes the line true for me. Like any raging perfectionist, Corgan’s insistence on taking things apart and putting them back together again would come back to bite him. But not before he proved that perfection was within his reach.

April’s Bestest Songs

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These songs came out in April 2019. I feel like I should compare them to fresh tulips, or dewy mornings, or baby rabbits frolicking in dewy tulip patches. And I guess I just did! Check out these 10 amazing tracks from the dew-tastic month that was.


1. Otoboke Beaver – “datsu . hikage no onna”

This Kyoto punk quartet has tapped into a reservoir of adrenaline potent enough to reanimate a long-dead heart.

2. Rico Nasty – “Hatin”

Rico made a Neptunes beat her own last year. Now it’s Jay-Z’s turn.

3. Annika Norlin – “Showering in Public”

A staggeringly beautiful folk song about locker room anxiety.

4. Kevin Abstract – “Joy Ride”

The visionary behind the electrifying hip-hop collective Brockhampton adds some humidity to his forecast, in the form of 1998 Outkast horn charts.

5. PUP – “Kids”

Ideally, getting older comes with some level of certainty. And when that certainty is about love, well that’s something to shout about.

6. Weyes Blood – “Everyday”

The Beatles made it sound easy, but “I need love” can be a pretty terrifying thing to say out loud. Weyes Blood makes this admission, over and over again, wisely bringing a soothing, 1970s soft rock orchestra along for the ride.

7. Pivot Gang – “Colbert”

This long-distance love song nails the reason why I bought a Dodge Neon in 2000. “I don’t wanna waste time / I don’t wanna FaceTime / I wanna be where you are.”

8. The Mountain Goats – “Clemency for the Wizard King”

That Council of Elrond moment, where Frodo Baggins realizes this impossible burden is his to bear, despite his size, lack of training and non-violent nature? This song makes me cry like that scene does.

9. Your Old Droog – “Babushka”

Musty clarinets, meet crusty NYC shit talk.

10. Beyoncé (feat. Jay-Z) – “Deja Vu (Live)”

It begins with what might be the greatest bass line in 21st century pop. Which then seamlessly shifts into the groove from Fela Kuti’s “Zombie,” fleshed out with reverence and vivacity by that incredible Homecoming marching band. Then Jay-Z plays the hype man to our Most Valuable Pop Star, in full control of her astonishing voice, singing about the hallucinatory power of love. It’s gonna be a long time before I hear a live album without wishing it was this one.