the decade that was: 100 awesome albums of the 2000s (#90-81) Nov 17 '11    Write an essay on this topic. Tweet Popular Products in Music Revelation [Digipak] by Journey From $12 Machine Gun Etiquette by The Damned From $40 The Bottom Line Lists -- still makin' em. We're moving right along with our epic revisit of the music of the 2000s, but don't be left out of the loop -- check out the first ten. I'll wait. Smashing! Onward and upward. 90. Infinity On High, Fall Out Boy At times, I play my cards close to the vest with genres that don't bear a pedigree of critical respect, and I'd imagine pop-punk is particularly noteworthy for not getting its due in music rags. Honestly, sometimes that reputation is earned -- it's a genre that lends itself well to homogeneity, and all the infectious energy and tenor harmonies in the world can't wash away the stench of a million bands that all sound exactly like each other. But credit where it's due, and all that -- with Infinity On High, an album that I initially purchased strictly based on the promise of a Jay-Z guest spot (he stops  by on "Thriller" to serve as hype-man and nothing more) and a coupon that guaranteed I could own the album for mere peanuts, I was dumbstruck to find a band that comfortably occupies its genre, but bears the hubris and ambition of arena rock and hip-hop. The arrangements are massive, lighter-hoisting fare, the vocals (courtesy of front-Boy Patrick Stump) resonate with uncommon virtuosity and, dare I say it, soul; and, perhaps towering over all else, there's the fact that these guys have never met a huge chorus that they couldn't make stick. Congrats, Fall Out Boy -- I may not check out many of your peers, but you've won me over with your sheer ambition. (full review) 89. Has Been, William Shatner Strange indeed is a world in which we can consider professional ham and Priceline-shiller William Shatner a musical force to be reckoned with, but then, the 2000s were dotted with downright weird resurgences. Shatner's brand of spoken-word mixed with community Shakespeare theatre can be off-putting when he's talking over your favorite songs -- it's difficult to connect with "Bohemian Rhapsody" and its absurd amount of vocal overlays when it's not actually, you know, SUNG -- but as it turns out, saddling this guy with a crackerjack producer (Ben Folds) and a slew of interesting originals is just what the doctor ordered. Has Been resonates from note one -- a wise, tense re-imagining of Pulp's "Common People" -- and captivates for the duration. It's Shatner's single shining musical moment -- an album that deftly navigates the turbulent thoughts of aging and celebrity with depth, pathos, and a hearty amount of gallows humor. There's no doubt that The Shat is a likeable enough presence, but with Has Been, Captain Kirk proved that he could deliver a stirring lyric to boot. (full review) 88. When Life Gives You Lemons, You Paint That Sh*t Gold, Atmosphere Aside from boasting an album title that could make this list on its own merits, When Life Gives You Lemons simply marked Atmosphere's most mature work to that point. That doesn't inherently make for compelling listening, granted, but as potent and magnetic an MC as frontman Slug has always been, he'd hinged on one prominent emotion -- anger -- for countless albums. And that was exciting, sure, but this new Slug is equally compelling; the anger is there, sure, but it's tempered with a maturity and a world-weariness that allow the songs on Lemons to hit other sweet spots as well. Don't get me wrong, an angry Slug rap spewing bile and vitriol is something to behold indeed; but with a more textured instrumental vibe (likely due to Atmosphere's gradual shift from duo to full-fledged band) and a series of varied, diverse, Slug raps to vibe to, When Life Gives You Lemons winds up being Atmosphere's most emotionally accessible record to date. Go figure. 87. Back to Black, Amy Winehouse Let's divorce the music from the public persona for a second. Sure, it's tempting to analyze Back to Black according to Amy's outlandish public profile and her self-destructive tendencies, but if I have to read another blurb about how eerily prescient "Rehab" was in retrospect, I promise you, I will throw up. Because, the truth is, Back to Black excels on its own merits. Amy's beguiling brand of retro r&b boasted all the hallmarks of vintage soul wax, but with an incredibly modern and forward-thinking vein of self-excavation haunting the entire album. What we end up with is a record as uncomfortably honest as it is strangely warm and, often, catchy and fiercely funny to boot. Back to Black is a tour de force, and while it's sad to have to refer to the artist in the past tense, it's an album that is fully-formed, and exists, thrives even, by its own merits. 86. Our Earthly Pleasures, Maximo Park I suppose to a certain degree Maximo Park's colorful tarting up of the basic framework of post-punk -- gill-stuffing it with massive hooks and dramatic, trembling vocals -- is an acquired taste; still, there's a part of me that can't help but question the judgment of someone who can't get down with Our Earthly Pleasures, a record chockablock with the most engaging, ratchet-tight, and catchy tales of heartbreak and romantic woe this side of an Elvis Costello record. The buzzsaw riffs are angular, the synths alternately bouncy and ominous, and Paul Green's vocals imbued with all the fraught drama of high Shakespeare. Resigned breakup anthems like "Books From Boxes" and mega-awesome single "Our Velocity" are eloquent and cutting, but with a boundless, twitchy energy that keeps them from sounding morose. Such is the rest of the album: by turns sad-bastard and cleverer-than-thou, but with spirit and charm to spare. 85. Oh You're So Silent Jens, Jens Lekman Swedish import Jens Lekman's brand of bedroom pop may seem super-precious to some; fortunately, he supercedes the stereotype of the twee indie songwriter by incorporating lyricism that's always clever but never pretentious, songs that pop with the simple hook of a stellar melody, and threading bold, off-the-wall samples seamlessly into his musical patchwork. It's all very fascinating stuff, and if Jens weren't in possession of a charming baritone and a razor-sharp wit, it would risk crumbling under the weight of its own ambition. Fortunately, Jens makes it all seem so breezy, and with pop melodies as immediate and crackerjack as "Black Cab" and the exultant "A Sweet Summer's Night on Hammer Hill", his vision is instantly accessible and effortlessly charming. 84. I Am A Bird Now, Antony & the Johnsons Antony's quavery, androgynous tenor is what elevates his band's brand of elegaic chamber-pop to the level of high art; it may sound quite pretentious and cabaret on paper, but on record, it plays quite honestly. I Am A Bird Now is, technically, quite a dramatic piece of work -- vocal parts brush up against each other quite theatrically, narrators opine about death and mortality into the smoke-choked air, and there's quite a bit of classically-informed pomp about the proceedings -- but, thanks to Antony and his disarming candidness, it never feels anything less than honest. Album opener "Hope There's Someone" is the definitive musical representation of what it feels like to break down and cry. 83. Robyn, Robyn Look, I could go on and on about the nature of disposable pop music and what the critics think about it, and that's fine, but here's the facts: Swedish pop siren Robyn, of pleasant late-90's throwaways like "Show Me Love", came back in a big way in the mid-2000s with a series of releases that echoed the direct innocence of early Madonna and the off-the-wall pop muse of Gwen Stefani. As all pop music of this ilk should be, it's deliriously catchy; in its quieter moments, though, something different happens entirely, and genuine emotional honesty shines through. Not since Wham! and Madge has a pop artist been able to wring such devastation out of a number like the whomping electro of "Be Mine"; "With Every Heartbeat" is a glorious song for its first two minutes, but when the violins float in and Robyn pushes her way to that pained coda, it ascends to space. And possibly heaven. 82. Loney, Noir, Loney, Dear In theory, Swedish singer-songwriter Loney, Dear is an easy sell -- you can sell him as a poppier Sufjan Stevens, big on large-scale instrumentation but with a focus on tighter, catchier songs, or as a folksier Band of Horses, or even as less-precious musical kinfolk to fellow countryman Jens Lekman. That's also what makes him a hard sell -- Loney grabs threads from all of these sources (and a little bit of My Morning Jacket, and a pinch of the Avett Brothers, and a smattering of Beirut), and weaves them into something as new as it is familiar, and that can be a ho-hum proposition for the jaded indie listener, even if he DOES reside on their beloved Sub Pop label. You'll just have to trust me on this one: there's something about Loney's soaring falsetto that sounds positively epic poured over acoustic guitars and subtle horns, and if you can listen to opener "Sinister in a State of Hope" under a bright, pregnant full moon and NOT feel like the night is full of possibility and wonder, you may be hopeless. 81. Dear Science, TV on the Radio Rounding out a remarkably indie-centric section of the list are hipster favorites TV on the Radio; their opaque brand of rock tosses Bowie, Radiohead, and doo-wop into a blender and hits "frappe", but with Science, somebody appears to have snuck in a fifth of Prince. This has resulted in their most insidiously groovy album yet; their artsier tendencies haven't evaded them, but with tasty jams like "Crying" and "Dancing Choose" at their disposal, TVotR proved that they're not above bringing a generous helping of funk to the proceedings. Nervy, wiry dance-punk hasn't sounded this revolutionary or paranoid since the heyday of Talking Heads. Are we having fun yet? Take a breather! Listen to some music! Leave some comments! And, most importantly, stay tuned.

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