Countdown to Ecstasy: 2005 Best-of Music Lists

Oh, joy -- the results are in! Another year comes to a close with another pair of Top 50 lists from Pitchfork, as well as a couple bonus tallies. Not too many surprises here, although certain ranking placements and exemptions suggest the fork slightly modifies its opinion for the end of the year. In October, for instance, the second Broken Social Scene record received an 8.4 rating and a "Best New Music" recommendation -- yet it didn't make the final 50 (whereas Devendra Banhart's Cripple Crow, which also received an 8.4, was ranked #38, and The Decemberists' Picaresque, which received an 8.3, was ranked #26). These aren't necessarily inconsistencies. The final list, I presume, is supposed to reflect the consensus of a more general, collaborative opinion and thus stand as a more authoritative, time-tested perspective. The days pass and opinions change. Now that January is on its way, though, clearly the time has come to make up one's mind about whether certain pop records are really as important as one originally thought.

Another thing I noticed was that, in the wake of these lists, there was some grumbling that Pitchfork doesn't know anything about hip-hop. An interesting sentiment and one that seems to come up from time to time -- although I'm the last person qualified to take a stance on the matter. Anyway, I'll save a more detailed commentary for a later post. For now, why not see how the fork's roundup compares with some of the others on the web.

More Best-of-2005 Lists

Metacritic

PopMatters

Stylus Magazine

Information Leafblower

Alex Ross: The Rest is Noise

Said the Gramophone

Insound Employees

And there's many, many more where these came from (though, after a while, they all start to blur together) ...

Some Other Lists that are Probably a Waste of Your Time

Every Local Album Released in Raleigh, NC

Hottest Babes in Indie Rock

USAToday.com's Top 100 People of 2005


Over here, at least people are talking while they list.

White Stripes Break-Up Update

Devoted readers may recall my prediction earlier this month that The White Stripes were nearing the end. The news may not be official yet, but the stars seem increasingly to be in line. On December 9, the band played a disastrous show in San Francisco for Live 105's "Not So Silent Night" all-star concert. Apparently, it was Meg's birthday and she was so drunk she couldn't keep the beat straight. Jack got pissed, ordered her off the stage, and played a couple acoustic songs by himself. Then he left, went backstage, and supposedly there was a lot of yelling and crying. After a while, they both came back and played a few more songs, although reportedly not very well. One witness who said he works for Live 105 claimed the band played only 38 minutes of a contracted 60-minute set. Another fan wondered "if this could somehow be a harbinger for the end of the band." My sentiments exactly. Ever since the announcement of Jack's wedding and the release of Get Behind Me Satan (a truly erratic, often uninspired album), it has seemed like the Stripes are just going through the motions. Occasionally there have been some terrific moments (their recent cut of "Shelter of Your Arms" or "The Denial Twist" performance on The Daily Show), but rarely do they seem as hellbent or undeniable or colossal as they were two years ago. In a sense, their fame has grown too big for them, swallowing them up and, like the ridiculous stage set pictured above, totally dwarfing the intimacy and simplicity that were once the group's most endearing attributes. It's sad. I think the band has lost its identity, and I know I'm not the only one. Why else would the latest record still not be available on vinyl? I mean, it's been six fucking months! What happened to your standards, Jack?! (As I see it, there's only two answers here: either Jack's pledge to analog technology was bullshit in the first place, just a fashionable pose designed to earn underground credibility, or he has lost control of his product. Neither speaks well to the band's devoted listeners.)

On the other hand, it's hard to blame Jack for his ambition. No one can really anticipate the true toll of celebrity until it's too late. And it's even harder to reproach Meg for her disillusion. Take a look at the Live 105 crowd. I too may've drunk myself into oblivion if forced to think very hard about how it had become my lot in life to entertain a bunch of, well ... these people. In the end, I suppose the incident could provide fuel for the proverbial fire. The White Stripes are only at their best when Jack and Meg are at odds with each other, and this seems like the perfect excuse for them both to get really riled up. I guess, for now, this is the most we can hope for.

Hog

We had this one hog in a trap, and he kept charging the side of it again and again until he'd bent it out about this far, and the hog busted up his nose doin' it, he's all bloody and beat up and enraged, and we put some shelled corn in there for him to eat, and right away he goes to eatin' without a care in the world. Wild hog's the only animal that'll always eat, no matter how freaked out he is.

Phillip, wild hog hunter,
from "Hogs Wild" by Ian Frazier,
The New Yorker: Dec. 12, 2005

No Do-Overs

Last night, I happened to read over yesterday's post and I found it really off-putting. I think I was trying to be playful, but the voice wound up sounding nasty and humorless. Yuck. I wish it weren't mine.

3, 2, 1: Listdown

With 2006 only a couple weeks away, Pitchfork has begun the count down to its massive, culture-defining, year-end list with, well, more lists! So far, the site has posted -- count 'em -- 1, 2, 3, 4 sections with a "2005 Comments and Lists" heading, but you can expect several more before the biggie. These features prove, once again, that Pitchfork has the ambition, if not the talent, to put pop music in proper perspective. Commentary is precisely what I've been calling for -- more insight into the list's intentions and analysis of its various aesthetic assertions (no doubt 'fork writers have been visiting my blog daily and taking scrupulous notes). The problem is, these "Comments and Lists" don't cut it (write this down, guys). So far, only the second installment has much in the way of actual commentary and none of this commentary has anything to do with the lists in the other three sections or the year-end Top 50 lists to which they are a prelude. I don't want more loudmouthed opinions -- Pitchfork has plenty of that already -- I want insight. Pitchfork would better serve us by creating only one list (or possibly two -- one for albums, one for singles) and then allowing each of its writers the opportunity to reflect on that list. What trends does it evince? What does it suggest about the direction of the music heading into 2006? How does it compare to last year's list, and what does this suggest about broader cultural changes? The truth is only available to those who seek it out.

While I'm at it, here's a few guesses as to the groups that will be responsible for the fork's Top 20 albums: M.I.A., Wolf Parade, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Sufjan Stevens, Animal Collective, Deerhoof, Antony & the Johnsons, Bloc Party, New Pornographers, Broken Social Scene, Hold Steady. That's eleven. What do you think? Who will be among the remaining nine? The Game? Kanye West? Jens Lekman? Devendra Banhart? LCD Soundsystem? [Hint: Check out Pitchfork's Best New Music section.]

Coming Attractions: More of the List, and More

As the days grow increasingly dark and dreary, I thought it wise to pause and take stock of where this blog is headed. I began with a list and a rant, as well as a promise to make sense of why I find the lists that pass for discourse within the pop music subculture so unsatisfying. Now that we've arrived neck deep in the Holidays and find ourselves sinking quickly toward the New Year, we've suddenly entered prime list season. Over the course of the next several weeks, then, I will continue my struggle with the list. What is its purpose? Who are its friends? Why does it only come in intervals of five and ten? These are just a few of the vexing questions I intend to address and offer in place of the usual comfort and tidings of joy. Michael Bérubé has suggested that I hate lists because they "disguise the fact that a great deal of popular culture isn't worth ranking or remembering at all." He also states that "the real fun of a list -- and the intellectual labor -- is realized only when its creator has to explain and defend its rationale." Yet too often I find the list becomes a dead end, an excuse for pundits to make blanket generalizations they never have any intention (or idea how) to defend. I don't have a problem with the list, per se -- just the lack of insight it tends to yield. This, at least, is the premise I mean to explore.

Integration

Q: Do you belive in integration?

A: We're already integrated, so why should I believe in it? It's a fact. We have always been integrated. That word integration is used by people in control to separate the poor from the rich, you know, blacks from whites. There's some sort of coalition going on now to get the poor people of all races together. I think a few people who control the world with their money are uptight about that.

Charles Tolliver, jazz trumpet player
As told to Art Taylor, 1970

News at 11: White Stripes Break-up Imminent

So allow me to elaborate on my last post ...

I've been suspecting that The White Stripes are about to break up for almost six months now, and last night's appearance on The Daily Show seemed like the perfect excuse for them to deliver the news. They didn't, but there's still a chance they will tonight (Friday) on Conan O'Brien. They sounded great, by the way. "Denial Twist" works better with electric guitar than grand piano.

Anyway, there are several reasons why I expect Jack and Meg are bound for Splitsville. The first is ... well, just listen to Get Behind Me Satan. The record bears many clues. For instance: "Forever for Her is Over for Me," which the press interpreted as some sort of farewell song to Renee Zellwegger. I never bought that. Any true White Stripes fan knows that all of the band's fucked-up-relationship songs are about Meg. That's what makes the Stripes so interesting. Whenever the energy veers too far over to Jack, it has to swing back to accommodate Meg. This is why on Elephant, when Jack is overwhelmed by the enormity of his ego during "I Just Don't Know What to Do with Myself," Meg has to take over and sing "In the Cold Cold Night." My point is that The White Stripes have always been about Jack and Meg. But, these days, Jack doesn't seem particularly interested in Meg. For a while they were in love, then they weren't, and then they hated each other -- and it was fascinating to listen to the various tensions that came out of that and to watch their conflict unfold on stage. But now Jack is married, expecting a baby; he's a celebrity and a successful record producer. And Get Behind Me Satan sounds almost like a solo record. Jack has joked that it's "Meg's album," but this is merely black humor and a way to undercut its excessive vanity. Most of the songs are about Jack. His need for redemption, his doorbell, his ugliness. By the time we get to "I'm Lonely (But I Ain't That Lonely Yet)," the album is less about a relationship than its own sense of isolation and withdrawal. Clearly, this relationship is already over.

Yet there is more to my suspicion. I saw The White Stripes twice this fall with Karen, my girlfriend. The first time we saw them was in Coney Island on Saturday, September 24. The photo above was taken that night (courtesy of Brooklyn Vegan). We also saw them in Detroit on October 2 for the final performance of the American leg of their tour. This was a strange show. Jack's mother was there. We were in the second row, right behind her. She was a short old lady with gray hair wearing a White Stripes t-shirt. She had on all these pins. There was a golden elephant broach, I remember, and an "I love Jack" pin and an "I love Meg" pin. When they played, she stood up and swayed from side to side, clapping. Jack spent most of the night upstage, back behind a line of lights that decorated the floor. But there was one moment, I forget during which song, when he stormed out to the front of the stage while he was sing-ranting about something -- right up to his mother. It was quite ominous. The white spotlight had followed him, so he was glowing and, as he charged, it felt like he was going right for his mom (and us too).

A few days later, the rumors started about Jack and Karen Elson being pregnant. Apparently Jack had told his family over the weekend in Detroit.

This concert, the last of a three-night stand at Detroit's Masonic Temple, had that same brooding, inward quality that haunts Get Behind Me Satan. Jack and Meg didn't glare at each other the way they usually do, and at the end of the evening, Jack said, "Detroit, I've been here thirty years and three days and now it's time for me to move on to something else." He didn't elaborate, but I took it to mean: kaput. After the Australian tour dates, I bet (unless there's another leg in Asia or Antarctica or something). Maybe I'm wrong. He could've just meant that now it was time for him to leave to play England. But I looked at Meg right after he said that and there was something infinitely sad in her eyes. Jack, meanwhile, was nothing but smiles and sunshine.

Karen, my girlfriend, is basically the White Stripes #1 fan. For the show in Detroit she dressed up in a black dress, white and black striped knee socks, red lipstick, and she brought Jack and Meg a dozen red and white roses. Over the summer, she had taken the news about Jack's marriage pretty hard (having long hoped for Jack and Meg to get back together). After the concert, she was really upset. She started to cry at the end of the encore and, as we walked outside, she said she felt sick. We had to sit on the Temple steps for a while as she composed herself. I offer her reaction as a testament to the finality that hung in the air with Jack's last guitar chord.

My last piece of evidence is that, lately, Karen has noticed certain ominous phrases appearing in the "message" section of the band's web site. On 11/14: "We're running out of things to do in the world, running out of places to play, And running out of air for our lungs ... Penny [Jack's new name for Meg] and I are sad that we have to Take a break soon."

Interpret that as you will. I've been scanning the web for break-up rumors, but there don't appear to be any. Only time will tell, I suppose.

I'm not as impressed with Get Behind Me Satan as the Stripes' first four albums, but lately they seem to have found their stride again. The new cuts, "Walking with a Ghost" and "Shelter of Your Arms," are both pretty fantastic -- better than many of the songs on the album. Maybe it's just taken a while to recover from their break.

White Stripes Conspiracy Theory

Prediction: The White Stripes will announce that they are breaking up tonight on the Daily Show. I'll explain later.

Black Hair Never

I've been informed that my friend Nick did not actually dye his hair black in high school. Many apologies to my numerous, faithful (and misled) readers. May I never fail you again. Nick, by the way, was married this past weekend in a lovely ceremony on Lake Michigan. I had way too much to drink and left nine dollars in the pants of my rented tuxedo.