of idiots, dropouts, and atomic bombs: 2004 in review (d&d write-off) Dec 22 '04 (Updated Dec 21 '05)    Write an essay on this topic. Tweet Popular Products in Music The Dirtchamber Sessions, Vol. 1 by The Prodigy From $11 Jersey Boys [Original Broadway Cast Recording] by Original Broadway Cast From $8 The Bottom Line . Let's keep our priorities straight here: it's all about the music. To be fair, two-double-aught-four yielded plenty of newsworthy events: Arafat died; the Sox won ('cuz the Yankee's *suck*); four more years! (aw, crap); Janet's boob; Ashlee's Milli Vanilli faux pas; Michael Jackson's piissed at Em; death for Scott Petersen; another Osama video. And then there's all the personal events: Drew gets re-introduced to singlehood; spends a rockin' summer in Jersey; narrowly ducks stray gunfire from irresponsible gang-bangers; forms Bohemian Man Fair, freakin' rocks; sees Muse concerts with Becky; gets sick, is subsequently bedridden for months; endures more ego-bruising gal woes; transitions, on the home front, from a vibrant (if slightly dangerous), urbane paradise to a lily-white, redneck suburb - ensuing maladjustment said to be downright comic. Aye, the year has been breathless and memorable and all that: but beyond the celeb controversy, the sports upsets, and the exposed teats, let us not forget that we are music section writers first, and it's all about the music, maaan. And as far as music goes, it was .. well, not too different from other years. Like 2002, it yielded a slew of masterpieces by acts yellow and grey; and, like oh-three, we had to wade through gallons of shiite to get to them. But when the dust cleared, a handful of albums stood relatively unscathed, and worthy of being pimped. Right, and they were: 15. (TIE) the Beautiful Struggle, Talib Kweli/ the second half of the New Danger, Mos Def. The former Black Star bandmates succeeded in continuing to rep meaty, cogent, but accessible hip-hoppers everywhere in oh-four; where they failed was eclipsing, or even equalling, the promise showed by their previous records. Talib brought more of the same with fewer balls; Mos, meanwhile, showed that he had balls to spare, with a wildly imagintive whirl through a stylistic blender freakier than the Love Below, but proved that, while his hip-hop stripes aren't in any imminent danger, his cred as a rocker and bluesman is luke at best. And while neither emcee had the prescience to collaborate with the other on either LP (post-Black Star joints like "Know That" and "Joy" allowed both to keep their distinct identities while demonstrating their remarkable chemistry with the other), both have this in common: when they're on, they're on. Talib's magnificent "Ghetto Show" almost defies description of soul and beauty, while Mos's "Sunshine" and "Sex, Love, and Money" were absolutely thunderous bangers. 14. Genius Loves Company, Ray Charles. Ray Charles was the Ubiquitous Dead Musical Titan of 2004 (previous bearers of this title include Joey Ramone and George Harrison); somewhere in-between his death and the release of biopic "Ray," Genius Loves Company rocketed up the charts with startling momentum. With good reason, of course; it hosts twelve gorgeous collaborations, ranging from the soothing ("Here We Go Again," with Norah Jones) to the borderline maudlin ("Somewhere Over the Rainbow," with Johnny Mathis) to the sublime ("Crazy Love," with Van Morrison). And yeah, i might be touting it so enthusiastically out of, I dunno, reverence for the deceased, or my addiction to the Van Morrison track, but that track recieves more-than-solid buildup from the eleven tracks that precede it. 13. the Ride, Los Lobos. Los Lonely Boys may have been the it-boys of bilingual Tex-Mex rock this year, but Los Lobos' synergy of bluesy angularity and Spanish-language accessibility, like the Ray Charles record, unites the artist with a slew of influences and contemporaries serving as collaborators, and the result is positively tantalizing. From the outset, hearing Los Lobos standing shoulder-to-shoulder with rock en Espanol darlings Cafe Tacuba on the muscular opener "La Venganza de los Pelados" should be enough to excite anybody; but, if that doesn't do it, the epic "Wicked Rain" should, or the breathtaking "Matter of Time" (with Elvis Costello!!). 12. Smile, Brian Wilson. Sure, Brian Wilson desecrated all that rabid anticipating by finally releasing an album Beach Boy fans have been waiting for since, i dunno, sixty-six. Still, Smile is one of the purtiest damn things to come out since .. well, since Pet Sounds, come to think of it. It's just plain good music. 11. Get Away From Me, Nellie McKay. This sharp-tongued anti-Norah has gone to great lengths to dissipate all comparisons towards Miss Jones: she knew they were coming, of course, as should any young piano-playing chanteuse reviving a dying genre, but infused her music with far more spunk and lacerating wit .. and, of course, there's that album title, bearing more than a slight resemblance to Jones' Come Away With Me. So critics promptly compared her to Eminem, the silly rock-crit fogies. Me, I'll take McKay over Jones or Mathers any day: Norah's the beauty you want resting on your arm, but Nellie is the one you want to have spirited discussions with. But not arguments, because she'll quickly disarm you with shots like "mister copulation', populatin', masturbatin', denigratin', birth of a nation instigatin', violator of my escape." And she's cute as a button, and talented, and vicious, and younger than me. But not too young. Therefore, marry me. 10. You Are the Quarry, Morrissey. Sure, post-Smiths Moz doesn't elicit the same musical excitement his former band tends to; but that doesn't change the fact that Morrissey's words aren't only perfect, he sings them perfectly; dramatically, but cheekily too. Look at this: "The World is Full of Crashing Bores," "I Have Forgiven Jesus," "All the Lazy Dykes." If You Are the Quarry weren't musically viable, it would at the very least be the best collection of titles in years. Luckily, it's great, and songs like "I Have Forgiven Jesus," "First of the Gang to Die," and "Irish Blood, English Heart" vibrant, crackling, and absolutely pristine. 9. Absolution, Muse. Through less-than-subliminal prodding from peers Becky and Andy, i checked out Muse this year. Luckily, their potent fusion of Radiohead, Jeff Buckley, and rockin' melodramatic musical theatre checked out nicely with me, and it didn't hurt that Becky graciously allowed me to tag along to not one, but two Muse concerts in Boston this year! They are fantastic live, and little is lost in the translation from stage to studio: frontman Matt Bellamy's Buckley-esque lilt still winds around mind-blowing fuzz-bass and crashing pianos like no one since .. well, the consensus seems to be that their closest musical checkpoint is Radiohead, but since my Radiohead experience is pretty strictly limited to the Bends, I'm having a lot more fun with Muse right now. Sway with your best gal-pal to "Falling Away With You," pump that lighter in the air to "Sing for Absolution," do the robot to "Time is Running Out": participation is most encouraged. 8. the Slow Wonder, A.C. Newman. For an album called the Slow Wonder that sports the cover of some high-concept folk album or something, the Slow Wonder catches on awfully fast. Current singer/songwriter of the New Pornographers, formerly of Zumpano, Slow Wonder is Newman's short (thirty minutes, just barely) solo debut, and rocks the socks off most of his power-pop contemporaries. Like some weird collision of the Beatles and The Who, with maybe a little bit of Badfinger and, i dunno, Ben Folds perhaps, Newman's pop-rock is littered with buoyant synth lines and power chords you could ride to the ends of the earth, and dreamy psychedelic balladry. "Miracle Drug" sets the stage perfectly, jagged power chords and jangle-pop somehow procreating to remarkable effect, and it's all brilliantly concise from there on out. If it's not quite as delectable as New Pornographers, it's just because Newman's created a lot to live up to. 7. the College Dropout, Kanye West. Kanye boasts that he's the "first niigga with a benz and a backpack" on his rhymin' debut, College Dropout; elsewhere, he claims that he's the first rapper to admit his insecurities. Seems like a lot of firsts for a first-timer who seems content to just bridge the gap between commercial and underground hip-hop, but Kanye's a bit of an anomaly anyway. In the same breath he'll discourage the rampant misogyny and materialism that seems to be middle-aged white america's main beef with hip-hop, turn around, and demand everybody in the club to pass the weed and admire his ice. Whatever the case, Kanye's beats are pure gold - we knew it before College Dropout, of course, but what's truly admirable are the rhymes he waxes over said beats: a pretty standard flow, as far as flows go, but the lyrics are smart, sardonic, self-aware, and sometimes self-deprecating. Plus, just look at the string of *hits* from this album: "Slow Jamz," "All Falls Down," "Through the Wire," "Jesus Walks," so on, so forth .. when was the last time a commercial rap album spawned radio friendly unit shifters with such durability and replay value? The only thing innovative about the College Dropout is that Kanye is a producer-turned-emcee who is actually pretty impressive on the mic; but i can trade in innovation for admittedly commercial rap performed with such skill and insight. 6. How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb, U2. It's not the polished brilliance of 2000's All That You Can't Leave Behind, but Atomic Bomb succeeds in doing exactly what U2 should be able to be expected to do by now: deliver an emotional kidney punch with skill, charisma, and old-fashioned bombast. And on these accounts Atomic Bomb doesn't disappoint - indeed, it resonates even stronger, since nobody really expected U2 to follow up ATYCLB with anything quite as fantastic. But, no: Bono is in top form, pushing his robust tenor to its upper register time and time again, and Edge, Adam Clayton, and Larry Mullen pick up the slack with ridiculously tight instrumentals and beefy, spine-tingling arrangements. By the time Bono and Edge duet on the comedown hymn "Yahweh," the damage is done: we let U2 win us over yet again. Ah well .. let's just start enjoying it. 5. Good News For People Who Love Bad News, Modest Mouse. Sure, it's a total sellout move if you wanted Modest Mouse to stay indie and inaccessible. But from a guy who had been trying to get into Modest Mouse for years, take it from me: this is still indie enough to be quirky and different, but with enough pop sensibility to pull me in like no other MM album has. Keep your Moon and Antarcticas and Lonesome Crowded Wests - Good News is weird and funky and totally elates me, inflates me like a big colorful hot-air balloon, and keeps me floating-on for hours afterwards. Near-perfect. 4. the Tipping Point, the Roots. The political manifesto-like print of Malcolm X that emblazons the cover of the Tipping Point belies the clarity of its party-hearty innards. Once Sly Stone-quoting opener "Stone" fades into the bumping, repetitive "I Don't Care" and then the glossy, beautifully overproduced "Don't Say Nuthin'," it becomes clear that the Roots have, at least for one album, abandoned sprawling, experimental, mind-expanding masterpieces for kinetic, concise, old-school hip-hop. Is it as brilliant as Phrenology? Hell naw. But a streamlined party record from the tightest band in the biz has to count for something, right? 3. Street Signs, Ozomatli. Like the bilingual companion to Spearhead's Everybody Deserves Music, the mission statement embodied by the rollicking, smart, but wholly danceable Street Signs - brought to vivid life by Ozomatli, a rock en Espanol collective that once featured Jurassic 5 emcee Chali 2na - is pretty simple: life sucks, but if all these different ethnicities would simply stop feuding and start shaking their tailfeathers in bootylicious harmony, it wouldn't suck so much. It's like a socially conscious party record as groovy as it is thoughtful. There's a party at the intersection of rock, hip-hop, and Latin music, and y'all are cordially invited. 2. Shake the Sheets, Ted Leo + the Pharmacists. Last year's Hearts of Oak seems to be the reference point for everyone who feels the need to dismiss Shake the Sheets as Leo's most inessential, ineffective album to date; yeah, it's good, but i don't get it. Shake the Sheets is a groovier, more accessible, tighter romp through the same earmarks, and I, for one, love it. It's pop-punk in spirit, but not in execution; the exuberance is infectious, the angular guitar chords straight out of Elvis Costello's playbook. "Me and Mia" is pop perfection; by comparison, "Counting Down the Hours" is simply heavenly. Let the naysayers lay about in 2003: it's all about Shake the Sheets in the oh-four, and you all must have a copy. 1. American Idiot, Green Day. Yep, it's a pop-punk record. You can add to the list of newsworthy events, then, the fact that hell has not only frozen over, but has found itself home to a host of pesky glaciers; and pigs have not only flown, they have flown first-class, and wooed a few flight attendants along the way. Because everybody knows that punk is simply not for me, the cookie-cutter anarchy too off-putting for me, the samey vocalists too boring, the melodies too grating. And yet, not only have i conceded in liking a pop-punk album - albeit a wildly popular one that's pretty safe to like - I am touting it as the best of its year! And I'm not ashamed of it, either: American Idiot truly _is_ the record of the year, timely and brilliant, simultaneously conceptual and accessible, experimental and rudimentary. It's the enthusiasm, it's the bile, it's the melodies, it's the brass ones required to compose not one, but TWO nine-minute-plus punk suites, it's the beauty of "Wake Me Up When September Ends," the pop brilliance of "Extraordinary Girl" and "Holiday," the immediacy, and the durability. It's the best record of 2004. ** Stay tuned for more of Demon and Drew's Year-End Extravaganza!

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