PortisheadLet's keep this moving. The timetable on this is whenever I damn well feel like it.
90. Keyshia Cole - A Different Me
One quick look at Keyshia Cole on the cover of her third album and you’ll notice something’s changed. Frankly I’m a little relieved, as I always thought that Cole’s positioning of herself as the go-to gangster girlfriend was fairly demoralizing and a disservice to her rapidly growing talents. Gone are the mangy wifebeaters, the fire engine red hair and the tacky Cruella DeVile white streak. Instead, Keyshia is shown with an elegant black crop cut, expensive jewelry and a sexy one piece. Her tattoos are still visible least you forget the degree she earned from the school of hard knocks.
It’s a conscious choice of course. On the jazzy opener, fittingly titled “Make Me Over,” Cole even pleads to her man, “Make me expensive/ Make me high price.” Luckily for all those who have followed the travails of her and her recovering crack addict mother on her BET reality show, Coles’s latest collection of songs won’t leave anyone too completely blindsided. Cole is still a sucker for dramatic love ballads, the same type that have caused many to prematurely label her the heiress to Mary J. Blige’s still very much occupied throne, however the melodies on “A Different Me” are much stronger and veer away from the generic tunes that littered “Just Like You.”
In a day and age in which pop is blending more and more into contemporary R&B, it’s comforting to know there are at least a few artists clinging to 90s sensibilities and resisting blatant crossover attempts. That Keyshia, whose voice has always made me think of a person recovering from a cold, sells a ton of records without being a household name should be of no surprise. Tempos are slinky and seductive on tracks like “Thought You Should Know,” and the Monica duet, “Trust,” and just when you think things might be getting a little too lethargic, Cole throws in a completely left field Gregorian chant to open the sparsely gorgeous, “Erotic.” Even in the one moment where Cole leans towards her pop sensibilities on the “Irreplaceable” sounding “This Is Us,” the singer’s sheer sense of bravada and guttural emotion elevates it past featherweight territory. In this case, different means better.
Choice Cuts: Erotic, Trust, Thought You Should Know, Brand New
89. Portishead - Third
Like any good kid who grew up in the 90s, I always had a soft spot for Portishead’s deliriously bewitching brand of trip-hop loops and swanky chanteuse vocals. Despite disappearing for over a decade, Portishead’s influence was resounding, their songs constantly showing up on trippy television promos and in posh nightclubs everywhere. It’s hard to imagine the songs from “Third” reaching the same scale of high scale ubiquity, unless that is you have some friends into throwing abandoned warehouse parties.
“Third” is very much a Portishead album, although they’ve approached their material from a completely new angle this time around. Beth Gibbon’s hauntingly distinctive voice is always the band’s centerpiece, however it now sounds less like it’s shrouded in mist and smoke and more startlingly frank and wounded. Is it fair to say that I’m a tad disappointed? There’s obviously a ton of interesting experimentation going on, as evident in standouts like “Plastic” and “Machine Gun,” but “Third” isn’t quite fulfilling the sleepytime music I’m used to from the band. Too often the tracks lack a sense of communal space, floating off into areas too distant and abstract to connect to. Gibbon is still one of the best torch singers out there, and it’s nearly always a treat to hear her in moments of pure emotion like on the voice-cracking “Nylon Smile,” and she doesn't let any of the tracks ever fall completely out of line. One just has to recognize that this is an album that almost exists more in the head than it does the ears. An album I’m still unwrapping.
Choice Cuts: Machine Gun, Magic Doors, Plastic
88. Alesha Dixon - The Alesha Show
Don’t say reality television never did anything positive. All but lost in record label purgatory, Dixon revitalized her career after appearing on and winning “Strictly Come Dancing,” England’s version of “Dancing With The Stars.” Probably sensing her last chance at stardom was a ticking clock, Dixon assembled a crack team of producers and songwriters to give her a vibrant and infectious follow up album brimming with energy and obvious hits. First single “The Boy Does Nothing,” pays homage to the show that gave her a second chance, with a mambo rhythm and tongue in cheek lyrics (Does he wash up?/ never wash up/ He does nothing/ The boy does nothing) that’s tailor made for the high camp of televised ballroom. Elsewhere, Dixon taps into the 60’s revivalism, giving a nod to girl groups on “Cinderella Shoe” and putting on her best Dusty Springfield on the stomping “Chasing Ghosts.” Dixon is eager to please throughout, willing to put on as many hats as it takes to gain herself some followers, yet the irony free readings of cheese-tastic blasters like “Let’s Get Excited” and “Play Me” elevate would-be eye-rolling material into the musical equivalent of smiley face stickers. Just try to dislike her.
Like most pop records, there are some clunkers, but “The Alesha Show” is not short on catchy treasures such as the charmingly old fashioned “Italians Do It Better,” the Spanish guitar laden “Don’t Ever Let Me Go” and the unbelievably hooky “Hand It Over.” I wish we had her over here.
Choice Cuts: Hand It Over, Chasing Ghosts, Breathe Slow, Italians Do It Better
87. The Roots - Rising Down
Had you told me when this album came out that a year later The Roots would be the house band for Jimmy Fallon, I would have called you crazy. After listening to “Rising Down” the last thing I would expect the members of the Roots to do is laugh. This is a remarkably serious album, full of righteous anger, tackling politics, race and poverty in truly devastating ways. If the self-defeating album title and the crude early-American blackface characters adorning the album cover didn’t clue you into that from the get-go, song titles like “I Will Not Apologize” and “Lost Desire,” should make it more than apparent.
The Roots could have easily sold out. They’re one of the few bands with cross generational and genre appeal, yet instead they chose to make their most difficult album yet, full of cavernous beats and a remarkably raw stripped down production style. Sung hooks come in for brevity on tracks like “Unwritten” and the potent “Criminal,” and album closer “Rising Up” is damn near positive thanks to a go-go beat and soothing guest vocal from Chrisette Michele.
One can’t walk away from the album without noticing “Singing Man” though. In it, all three MCs drop by to deliver heartbreaking portrayals of suicide bombers, school shooters and child soldiers. They never condone, they just observe. That’s what the Roots have always done for us.
Choice Cuts: Criminal, Singing Man, Rising Up, Unwritten
86. Lil Mama - VYP: Voice of the Young People
I’d say Lil Mama shot herself in the foot. No, I’m not talking about the mind-boggling decision to bum rush Jay-Z and Alicia Keys on stage at this year’s VMAs (Child sit down), I’m talking about that album title. Voice of the Young People? Lil Mama is already 20 years old. That she chose to target a demographic that grows up and abandons you quicker than you can count your money, especially when she didn’t have to, is perplexing. So here we are, nearly three years after “Lip Gloss” and Lil Mama looks like a lost cause, and it’s not just because she can’t manage to stay in her seat. Little girls probably could use a positive rapper, but it didn’t have to be this one.
Truth is, after all the easy pot shots and taunts, Lil Mama actually CAN rap. Most will reject “Lip Gloss” as a disposable pop novelty, and while that may be true, it makes me wonder if people can ever recognize the inherent power in purposeful silliness. Say what you want, but she dominated on a track that had ONE singular element on it. I can’t say the same for a lot of other rappers.
What’s most surprising about this album is that beneath bubblegum songs like “G-Slide Tour Bus” and “Shawty Get Loose,” Lil Mama actually emerges as a self-reflective and damaged young woman caught in an identity crisis. “VYP” has a midsection of songs cloaked in pain and turmoil. On “L.I.F.E.,” she raps, “I wake up everyday to the same old foster mother/ I ain’t got no picture of my real mother/ she was a crack fiend/nothing like Pac’s mother. The hypnotizing “Stand Up” features lyrics as environmental as “the boys on the court playing basketball/ they’re baby fathers they’d rather be boy and that’s all.” “College” is downright puzzling, rapped from the perspective of a young girl told the prison she’s being taken to to visit her father in is actually a tour of a college campus. It doesn’t make complete sense, but it does show a desire towards risk-taking that can only serve her well in the future.
I’m not sure if these lyrics are autobiographical or not, but she display a strong sense of intelligence and awareness that actually allows her to verge on inspiring. In the best way possible, she’s the musical personification of “The Tyra Banks Show.” Now, just quit dressing up like a baby already.
Choice Cuts: Stand Up, L.I.F.E., College, Swim
85. Estelle - Shine
“Shine” is one of those albums that has highlights so dizzying, everything surrounding them tends to suffer. “American Boy” was a perfect clash of cultures, bridging the pond not only lyrically, but also uniting the cold stomp of American hip-hop with the light-hearted dance tendencies of The UK. It’s rare you can feel this sophisticated while being as equally grimy. She’s just as likable on “Wait A Minute” darting between cockney rapping and rhapsodic singing over Cab Calloway like big band darts.
It’s easy to see why everything else pales in comparison and the abundance of cooks in the kitchen does threaten to stifle her undeniable personality at times. Thankfully, Estelle is likable enough in each of her many different personalities that’s she able to switch from prickly barbs like “Weezy make it rain but I bring the umbrella” on “So Much Out The Way” to gentle Sunday soul throwbacks with Cee-Lo and John Legend. The reggae-esuqe tracks like “Come Over” and “Magnificent,” usually the embarrassing death knell for artists trying to expand their oeuvre, actually illuminate the often brash tart of her voice. Estelle has her shining moment
Choice Cuts: American Boy, Wait A Minute, Come Over, Pretty Please (Love Me)
84. Keane - Perfect Symmetry
I think I missed the “let’s hate Keane” memo. It seems I also missed an entire album in there somewhere. Obviously something has changed since I last took notice. On “Perfect Symmetry,” Keane is still aiming for the kind of lighters in the air arena rock that U2 or Coldplay have been able to manage for so many albums, however, aware they’re often maligned for being carbon copies, a perfunctory layover in electro-ville seemed the viable option. If I could sum it up simply, it’s the type of musical switch that will move their music from playing in department stores to stores with light-boxes on the walls.
It wasn’t a bad idea by any means. The band’s melodies are still there and soul-stirring as ever, now they’re just punctuated by retro synth blips instead of overly reaching string sections. The albums opening four tracks are among the best. “Spiraling” is awkward in its likable corniness full of non-sensical but shimmery lines like “I made you out of jewels and stone/ I made you in the image of myself.” It’s a toe-tapping delight, bound to make it on the playlists of everyone who didn’t really want to say goodbye to the 80s. “The Lovers Are Losing” has all the grandiose pomp and circumstance of “Somewhere Only We Know,” but it is curbed by the sunny disposition of glitz that keeps it paces away from suffocation. The hand-clappy “You Haven’t Told Me Anything” also rests perfectly in the middle, balancing video game sound effects with stadium sing alongs. The second half goes back to the piano basics, which is a little discouraging, but even when things get too melancholic, Chaplin’s voice is expressive and distinctive enough to carry them all to some sort of sun drenched graveyard.
Choice Cuts: You Haven’t Told Me Anything, The Lovers Are Losing, Better Than This
83. Young Jeezy - The Recession
Apparently the recession hits street capitalists too. Poor Jeezy. He’s sounding positively depressed on this record, eschewing the braggadocio (not entirely) that marked his previous singles in favor of political consciousness and self-moralizing. The production is refreshingly free of big budget producers and each of the dirty south productions perfectly surrounds his gruff drawl. Thankfully synth squeals and warm soul samples come in to liven up the positively dreadful lyrical content. Even Kanye West drops by to mourn his mother on “Put On.” “My President Is Black” comes in at the end to rescue us (a little far-sighted now) from the mayhem, chock full of fantastically ridiculous lyrics about Cc-ing Allah and putting Barack on a 5,000 dollar bill. What a time capsule.
Choice Cuts: Don’t Do It, Word Play, My President, Circulate
82. Dolly Parton - Backwoods Barbie
It’s been a while since Dolly’s been on the pop country scene, biding her time with masterful bluegrass albums like “Halos and Horns,” in between, so it’s no surprise that after over a decade long absence from the game, Dolly’s a little unsure of where she can fit in the typically narrow-sighted country radio game. Thankfully Dolly doesn’t get all Taylor Swift on us by singing about dancing in the rain ON EVERY SONG (excuse me) and instead sticks to what she knows best: Alternating Loretta Lynn-like lovesick ballads (“I Will Forever Hate Roses”) with bubbly life-affirming (“Better Get To Livin’”). “Made of Stone” and Cologne” prove that perhaps there’s no better voice out there to convey pain, and she continues her streak of wacky cover choices with hoedown versions of “The Tracks of My Tears” and “Drives Me Crazy.” Even when things expose Parton’s age (the canned background singers on “The Lonesomes” are particularly egregious), she’s so damn sweet you even forgive her for songs as ham-fisted as “Jesus & Gravity.” The title track, sure to be a touring staple from now on, probably sums it up best. Over slide guitars and banjo picking, Parton says “Don’t let these false eyelashes/ Lead you to believe/ That I’m as shallow as I look/ Cause I run true and deep.” Can someone get this woman on a list of national treasures already?
Choice Cuts: Made of Stone, Backwoods Barbie, Shinola, The Tracks Of My Tears
81. The Mountain Goats - Heretic Pride
Listening to a Mountain Goats album is like reading through any given years “Best American Short Stories.” Each track, vignettes really, is so vividly described and realized that it’s easy to get lost in each of the worlds. From the 50s monster movie backdrop of “Lovecraft In Brooklyn” (like its inspirations, an allegory for xenophobia) to alienated villagers approaching death on “Heretic Pride,” each song is bristling with compelling imagery and characters that gain our sympathy in the short running time of a song. Cult members, scientists, spies, and murdered reggae stars round out the cast of characters, their stories all told over folky guitar strums and delicate strings. John Darnielle’s vocals often whiney vocals sometimes grate, but with songs and stories as memorable as this, it really ends up moot. An author’s album “If I forget Israel, let me forget my right hand.” Sigh.
Choice Cuts” Sept 15th 1983, Tianchi Lake, Heretic Pride, Lovecraft In Brookyln
90. Keyshia Cole - A Different Me
One quick look at Keyshia Cole on the cover of her third album and you’ll notice something’s changed. Frankly I’m a little relieved, as I always thought that Cole’s positioning of herself as the go-to gangster girlfriend was fairly demoralizing and a disservice to her rapidly growing talents. Gone are the mangy wifebeaters, the fire engine red hair and the tacky Cruella DeVile white streak. Instead, Keyshia is shown with an elegant black crop cut, expensive jewelry and a sexy one piece. Her tattoos are still visible least you forget the degree she earned from the school of hard knocks.
It’s a conscious choice of course. On the jazzy opener, fittingly titled “Make Me Over,” Cole even pleads to her man, “Make me expensive/ Make me high price.” Luckily for all those who have followed the travails of her and her recovering crack addict mother on her BET reality show, Coles’s latest collection of songs won’t leave anyone too completely blindsided. Cole is still a sucker for dramatic love ballads, the same type that have caused many to prematurely label her the heiress to Mary J. Blige’s still very much occupied throne, however the melodies on “A Different Me” are much stronger and veer away from the generic tunes that littered “Just Like You.”
In a day and age in which pop is blending more and more into contemporary R&B, it’s comforting to know there are at least a few artists clinging to 90s sensibilities and resisting blatant crossover attempts. That Keyshia, whose voice has always made me think of a person recovering from a cold, sells a ton of records without being a household name should be of no surprise. Tempos are slinky and seductive on tracks like “Thought You Should Know,” and the Monica duet, “Trust,” and just when you think things might be getting a little too lethargic, Cole throws in a completely left field Gregorian chant to open the sparsely gorgeous, “Erotic.” Even in the one moment where Cole leans towards her pop sensibilities on the “Irreplaceable” sounding “This Is Us,” the singer’s sheer sense of bravada and guttural emotion elevates it past featherweight territory. In this case, different means better.
Choice Cuts: Erotic, Trust, Thought You Should Know, Brand New
89. Portishead - Third
Like any good kid who grew up in the 90s, I always had a soft spot for Portishead’s deliriously bewitching brand of trip-hop loops and swanky chanteuse vocals. Despite disappearing for over a decade, Portishead’s influence was resounding, their songs constantly showing up on trippy television promos and in posh nightclubs everywhere. It’s hard to imagine the songs from “Third” reaching the same scale of high scale ubiquity, unless that is you have some friends into throwing abandoned warehouse parties.
“Third” is very much a Portishead album, although they’ve approached their material from a completely new angle this time around. Beth Gibbon’s hauntingly distinctive voice is always the band’s centerpiece, however it now sounds less like it’s shrouded in mist and smoke and more startlingly frank and wounded. Is it fair to say that I’m a tad disappointed? There’s obviously a ton of interesting experimentation going on, as evident in standouts like “Plastic” and “Machine Gun,” but “Third” isn’t quite fulfilling the sleepytime music I’m used to from the band. Too often the tracks lack a sense of communal space, floating off into areas too distant and abstract to connect to. Gibbon is still one of the best torch singers out there, and it’s nearly always a treat to hear her in moments of pure emotion like on the voice-cracking “Nylon Smile,” and she doesn't let any of the tracks ever fall completely out of line. One just has to recognize that this is an album that almost exists more in the head than it does the ears. An album I’m still unwrapping.
Choice Cuts: Machine Gun, Magic Doors, Plastic
88. Alesha Dixon - The Alesha Show
Don’t say reality television never did anything positive. All but lost in record label purgatory, Dixon revitalized her career after appearing on and winning “Strictly Come Dancing,” England’s version of “Dancing With The Stars.” Probably sensing her last chance at stardom was a ticking clock, Dixon assembled a crack team of producers and songwriters to give her a vibrant and infectious follow up album brimming with energy and obvious hits. First single “The Boy Does Nothing,” pays homage to the show that gave her a second chance, with a mambo rhythm and tongue in cheek lyrics (Does he wash up?/ never wash up/ He does nothing/ The boy does nothing) that’s tailor made for the high camp of televised ballroom. Elsewhere, Dixon taps into the 60’s revivalism, giving a nod to girl groups on “Cinderella Shoe” and putting on her best Dusty Springfield on the stomping “Chasing Ghosts.” Dixon is eager to please throughout, willing to put on as many hats as it takes to gain herself some followers, yet the irony free readings of cheese-tastic blasters like “Let’s Get Excited” and “Play Me” elevate would-be eye-rolling material into the musical equivalent of smiley face stickers. Just try to dislike her.
Like most pop records, there are some clunkers, but “The Alesha Show” is not short on catchy treasures such as the charmingly old fashioned “Italians Do It Better,” the Spanish guitar laden “Don’t Ever Let Me Go” and the unbelievably hooky “Hand It Over.” I wish we had her over here.
Choice Cuts: Hand It Over, Chasing Ghosts, Breathe Slow, Italians Do It Better
87. The Roots - Rising Down
Had you told me when this album came out that a year later The Roots would be the house band for Jimmy Fallon, I would have called you crazy. After listening to “Rising Down” the last thing I would expect the members of the Roots to do is laugh. This is a remarkably serious album, full of righteous anger, tackling politics, race and poverty in truly devastating ways. If the self-defeating album title and the crude early-American blackface characters adorning the album cover didn’t clue you into that from the get-go, song titles like “I Will Not Apologize” and “Lost Desire,” should make it more than apparent.
The Roots could have easily sold out. They’re one of the few bands with cross generational and genre appeal, yet instead they chose to make their most difficult album yet, full of cavernous beats and a remarkably raw stripped down production style. Sung hooks come in for brevity on tracks like “Unwritten” and the potent “Criminal,” and album closer “Rising Up” is damn near positive thanks to a go-go beat and soothing guest vocal from Chrisette Michele.
One can’t walk away from the album without noticing “Singing Man” though. In it, all three MCs drop by to deliver heartbreaking portrayals of suicide bombers, school shooters and child soldiers. They never condone, they just observe. That’s what the Roots have always done for us.
Choice Cuts: Criminal, Singing Man, Rising Up, Unwritten
86. Lil Mama - VYP: Voice of the Young People
I’d say Lil Mama shot herself in the foot. No, I’m not talking about the mind-boggling decision to bum rush Jay-Z and Alicia Keys on stage at this year’s VMAs (Child sit down), I’m talking about that album title. Voice of the Young People? Lil Mama is already 20 years old. That she chose to target a demographic that grows up and abandons you quicker than you can count your money, especially when she didn’t have to, is perplexing. So here we are, nearly three years after “Lip Gloss” and Lil Mama looks like a lost cause, and it’s not just because she can’t manage to stay in her seat. Little girls probably could use a positive rapper, but it didn’t have to be this one.
Truth is, after all the easy pot shots and taunts, Lil Mama actually CAN rap. Most will reject “Lip Gloss” as a disposable pop novelty, and while that may be true, it makes me wonder if people can ever recognize the inherent power in purposeful silliness. Say what you want, but she dominated on a track that had ONE singular element on it. I can’t say the same for a lot of other rappers.
What’s most surprising about this album is that beneath bubblegum songs like “G-Slide Tour Bus” and “Shawty Get Loose,” Lil Mama actually emerges as a self-reflective and damaged young woman caught in an identity crisis. “VYP” has a midsection of songs cloaked in pain and turmoil. On “L.I.F.E.,” she raps, “I wake up everyday to the same old foster mother/ I ain’t got no picture of my real mother/ she was a crack fiend/nothing like Pac’s mother. The hypnotizing “Stand Up” features lyrics as environmental as “the boys on the court playing basketball/ they’re baby fathers they’d rather be boy and that’s all.” “College” is downright puzzling, rapped from the perspective of a young girl told the prison she’s being taken to to visit her father in is actually a tour of a college campus. It doesn’t make complete sense, but it does show a desire towards risk-taking that can only serve her well in the future.
I’m not sure if these lyrics are autobiographical or not, but she display a strong sense of intelligence and awareness that actually allows her to verge on inspiring. In the best way possible, she’s the musical personification of “The Tyra Banks Show.” Now, just quit dressing up like a baby already.
Choice Cuts: Stand Up, L.I.F.E., College, Swim
85. Estelle - Shine
“Shine” is one of those albums that has highlights so dizzying, everything surrounding them tends to suffer. “American Boy” was a perfect clash of cultures, bridging the pond not only lyrically, but also uniting the cold stomp of American hip-hop with the light-hearted dance tendencies of The UK. It’s rare you can feel this sophisticated while being as equally grimy. She’s just as likable on “Wait A Minute” darting between cockney rapping and rhapsodic singing over Cab Calloway like big band darts.
It’s easy to see why everything else pales in comparison and the abundance of cooks in the kitchen does threaten to stifle her undeniable personality at times. Thankfully, Estelle is likable enough in each of her many different personalities that’s she able to switch from prickly barbs like “Weezy make it rain but I bring the umbrella” on “So Much Out The Way” to gentle Sunday soul throwbacks with Cee-Lo and John Legend. The reggae-esuqe tracks like “Come Over” and “Magnificent,” usually the embarrassing death knell for artists trying to expand their oeuvre, actually illuminate the often brash tart of her voice. Estelle has her shining moment
Choice Cuts: American Boy, Wait A Minute, Come Over, Pretty Please (Love Me)
84. Keane - Perfect Symmetry
I think I missed the “let’s hate Keane” memo. It seems I also missed an entire album in there somewhere. Obviously something has changed since I last took notice. On “Perfect Symmetry,” Keane is still aiming for the kind of lighters in the air arena rock that U2 or Coldplay have been able to manage for so many albums, however, aware they’re often maligned for being carbon copies, a perfunctory layover in electro-ville seemed the viable option. If I could sum it up simply, it’s the type of musical switch that will move their music from playing in department stores to stores with light-boxes on the walls.
It wasn’t a bad idea by any means. The band’s melodies are still there and soul-stirring as ever, now they’re just punctuated by retro synth blips instead of overly reaching string sections. The albums opening four tracks are among the best. “Spiraling” is awkward in its likable corniness full of non-sensical but shimmery lines like “I made you out of jewels and stone/ I made you in the image of myself.” It’s a toe-tapping delight, bound to make it on the playlists of everyone who didn’t really want to say goodbye to the 80s. “The Lovers Are Losing” has all the grandiose pomp and circumstance of “Somewhere Only We Know,” but it is curbed by the sunny disposition of glitz that keeps it paces away from suffocation. The hand-clappy “You Haven’t Told Me Anything” also rests perfectly in the middle, balancing video game sound effects with stadium sing alongs. The second half goes back to the piano basics, which is a little discouraging, but even when things get too melancholic, Chaplin’s voice is expressive and distinctive enough to carry them all to some sort of sun drenched graveyard.
Choice Cuts: You Haven’t Told Me Anything, The Lovers Are Losing, Better Than This
83. Young Jeezy - The Recession
Apparently the recession hits street capitalists too. Poor Jeezy. He’s sounding positively depressed on this record, eschewing the braggadocio (not entirely) that marked his previous singles in favor of political consciousness and self-moralizing. The production is refreshingly free of big budget producers and each of the dirty south productions perfectly surrounds his gruff drawl. Thankfully synth squeals and warm soul samples come in to liven up the positively dreadful lyrical content. Even Kanye West drops by to mourn his mother on “Put On.” “My President Is Black” comes in at the end to rescue us (a little far-sighted now) from the mayhem, chock full of fantastically ridiculous lyrics about Cc-ing Allah and putting Barack on a 5,000 dollar bill. What a time capsule.
Choice Cuts: Don’t Do It, Word Play, My President, Circulate
82. Dolly Parton - Backwoods Barbie
It’s been a while since Dolly’s been on the pop country scene, biding her time with masterful bluegrass albums like “Halos and Horns,” in between, so it’s no surprise that after over a decade long absence from the game, Dolly’s a little unsure of where she can fit in the typically narrow-sighted country radio game. Thankfully Dolly doesn’t get all Taylor Swift on us by singing about dancing in the rain ON EVERY SONG (excuse me) and instead sticks to what she knows best: Alternating Loretta Lynn-like lovesick ballads (“I Will Forever Hate Roses”) with bubbly life-affirming (“Better Get To Livin’”). “Made of Stone” and Cologne” prove that perhaps there’s no better voice out there to convey pain, and she continues her streak of wacky cover choices with hoedown versions of “The Tracks of My Tears” and “Drives Me Crazy.” Even when things expose Parton’s age (the canned background singers on “The Lonesomes” are particularly egregious), she’s so damn sweet you even forgive her for songs as ham-fisted as “Jesus & Gravity.” The title track, sure to be a touring staple from now on, probably sums it up best. Over slide guitars and banjo picking, Parton says “Don’t let these false eyelashes/ Lead you to believe/ That I’m as shallow as I look/ Cause I run true and deep.” Can someone get this woman on a list of national treasures already?
Choice Cuts: Made of Stone, Backwoods Barbie, Shinola, The Tracks Of My Tears
81. The Mountain Goats - Heretic Pride
Listening to a Mountain Goats album is like reading through any given years “Best American Short Stories.” Each track, vignettes really, is so vividly described and realized that it’s easy to get lost in each of the worlds. From the 50s monster movie backdrop of “Lovecraft In Brooklyn” (like its inspirations, an allegory for xenophobia) to alienated villagers approaching death on “Heretic Pride,” each song is bristling with compelling imagery and characters that gain our sympathy in the short running time of a song. Cult members, scientists, spies, and murdered reggae stars round out the cast of characters, their stories all told over folky guitar strums and delicate strings. John Darnielle’s vocals often whiney vocals sometimes grate, but with songs and stories as memorable as this, it really ends up moot. An author’s album “If I forget Israel, let me forget my right hand.” Sigh.
Choice Cuts” Sept 15th 1983, Tianchi Lake, Heretic Pride, Lovecraft In Brookyln
