A Decade Under The Taking Back Sunday Reference Part IV

Go forth, young sailor and capture that unrelenting isle of great fortune and sweet meats...

Phantom Planet - Phantom Planet

Yes, it is indeed those guys who wrote The OC theme song. But wait--a few years before Josh Schwartz decided to create a show about privileged sexy teens (played by actors in their 20s) in California (he took a gamble on the setting, yes), the theme song was an actual song by Phantom Planet called, of all things, "California," which can be found on their 2002 album The Guest.

Yes, this is indeed the band that Jason Schwartzman was originally the drummer for. Schwartzman departed after The Guest and the ensuing releases from the band were actually much stronger. Follow up albums Phantom Planet and Raise The Dead still stay true to the band's pop-rock roots and are easily digestible, but explore slightly darker territory than the Beach Boys influenced work on The Guest.

2004's self-titled album is one that I can undoubtedly say is listenable from start to finish. Never have I skipped a track while listening to Phantom Planet and I dare you to find an unlistenable song on the album. In fact, if you are so bold as to challenge my assertion, we will settle things with a brutish X-arm battle. Really though, come on, admit it, you cannot possibly dislike this album. It is brimming with hooks-a-plenty that suck you in, like a high powered Hoover vacuum cleaner on the bumpy carpeting in your parents' living room (good job Dad). There is an ambient dream-pop element on tracks like "Knowitall" and "After Hours" with subtle drum machine backing, dreamy tremolo guitar work, and gentle keyboard lines. As well, one cannot deny the band's command of melody, as numerous tracks have impressive three-part harmonies.

Be honest, you like this album. There is no shame in admitting so. Even if The OC is a guilty pleasure, there is no reason why this album should be. It is simply a pleasure (simple pleasures? ha. no.) Just admit it.

DD/MM/YYYY - Black Square

If any of you (assuming there is more than one of you) have read this here blog of varying quality and hypocrisy over the past year, this album's appearance on the list should not surprise you. I suppose it is my Sebastien Grainger & The Mountains of 2009. Not to compare and contrast the two albums (as they are so vastly different it would be unfair to do so), but Black Square had a lot more riding on it. This is the album that single-handedly saved 2009 from being a complete musical write-off. If I was to concoct a list of the best albums of 2009 it would not be a list at all, rather a single line: Black Square.

Generally I believe in the platitude that art should be separate from the artist. I would prefer not to know much about an artist's personal life, as it affects my enjoyment and interpretation of their work. However, over the course of the past year I have become somewhat familiar with the members of DD/MM/YYYY—If you are at all involved in the Toronto music scene it is difficult not to be. Having said that, this familiarity has, if anything, made me appreciate their work even more. The members of DD/MM/YYYY live in near-squalor yet have toured North America and Europe and are a household name in independent art rock circles. I believe it is from this near-squalor and truly independent spirit that the band can create such earnest and passionate art. On top of how earnest and passionate the music is, it is also unlike anything else out there: complicated time signatures, double synthesizer madness, acid jazz guitar riffs, complex mind-bending lyrics, and, um, some bass.

Compared to past releases, Black Square is the band's most coherent effort. The strongest tracks that bookend the album (tracks 1-4 and 10-12) are perhaps some of the greatest musical compositions to have graced mine ears, methinks. However, the albums does lose some ground in the middle with a series of instrumental and drone-noise numbers. Regardless, it is a fantastic album from a band that deserves your unwavering support. Go buy it, now.

Brand New - Deja Entendu

Fuck it. I am fully going back on my word. This album changed everything for me. Perhaps at the core, what each track on Deja Entendu is really about is trivial in retrospect. Perhaps comparing a failing relationship to a shipwreck is a tad over the top. Perhaps song titles that are essays in themselves is a little cliche. Perhaps not everything has to be a simile or metaphor, that it is acceptable on occasion to simply state what it is you are referring to. Regardless, Jesse Lacey makes every word count. Despite the fact that most songs on Deja are about some girl whom he probably couldn't care less about today, Jesse's analogies and phrasing are beautiful.

The lyrics on this album are proof that it's not what you say, it's how you say it. Who cares what these songs are actually about. They capture a whirlwind of emotion both lyrically and musically. Yes, there is a formula that was developed on this album, the quiet beginning that leads to a culminating crescendo chorus of an ending (as demonstrated on "Okay I beleive you but my tommy gun don't," "Jaws Theme Swimming," "The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot," "Me vs. Maradonna vs. Elvis," and "Good to know if I ever need attention all I have to do is die"), but it is used to such great effect. Furthermore, this is an album in every sense of the word. It opens with the slow-building "mini" song "Tautou" that transitions wonderfully to the punchy drum and bass intro of "Sic Transit Gloria (Glory Fades)." The fact that each song transitions to the next seamlessly suggests Lacey's role as not just a songwriter, but a musical auteur. Closing track "Play Crack The Sky" is undoubtedly the best possible closer to an album of emotional highs and lows. Sure, an adolescent romance is not anywhere close to a shipwreck, and it is laughable to suggest such a comparison in everyday conversation, but goddamn is "Play Crack The Sky" ever a well-written song. Moreover, as I said in regards to Taking Back Sunday, just because one does not feel those emotional extremes anymore in his or her post-adolescent age, it does not make them any less legitimate nor should they be written off entirely. Lacey may have written about retrospectively trivial matters, but at the time they meant everything to him and he waxed poetic about them in a manner that very few can.

This is the first album that really forced me to focus on lyrics and the power of the written word. This is the first album with lyrics that literally made me cry. This is the first album that I would defend with my life against dickweeds who called it "emo," attempting to group it with other adolescent garbage. I rarely listen to Deja Entendu anymore. I suppose I am afraid to. I am afraid that I won't feel as strongly connected to it now as I did 6 years ago. I am afraid that with the loss of that connection I will lose a part of myself.

Well, fear not. I listened to it. It is still one of my favourite albums ever.

I'm sure #1 is God

I made the unfortunate discovery of this blog yesterday:

Before I ramble on and get to the "nitty gritty" of why it makes my penis erode, I urge you to quickly peruse the site and get the gist of it, though being the cause of more hits for the site does erode my penis further.

While you read about why life is worth living based on a series of arbitrarily cute everyday occurrences, I will sit here silently, twiddling my thumbs, and thinking about a professor I had in first year Canadian Politics who always said we were getting into the "nitty gritty" when explaining a complex issue like fiscal responsibility. Apparently, he had some sort of mid-life epiphany when he realized why he always says "nitty gritty" : He is a homosexual. I used my keen intellect (I got 72 in that class) to come to this conclusion as he had previously mentioned his children, then one day mentioned possibly going to Mexico with his "partner" over Reading Week, "...but I'm not sure he can get work off." Understandable. Mid-February is when Pottery Barn receives its new Spring inventory.

Back on topic...

The girl in front of me in class yesterday spent literally the entire two hour lecture browsing the 1000 Awesome Things blog. Okay I lied. She occasionally went to the other tab in Safari that was on some online store specializing in horrid crewneck Mom sweaters. I realize that 1000 Awesome Things is certainly not geared towards such a cynical being as I and some undergrads (even those sitting in Architecture For Our Times) appreciate gooey sentiments like babies wearing big person clothes (awww a little scientist! are you going to invent a way for you to not constantly shit?) and Post Secret, but I find the 1000 Things blog a little suspect. The purpose of the blogosphere is to post rants about why Kings of Leon suck, leak Pitchfork albums, chronicle the monotony of your day to day life, upload pictures of various designer lines of clothing you will never be able to afford, anonymously take jabs at your friends, and hire a ghostwriter to make you seem like a well-read, richly cultured, fairly articulate rapper named Kanye. Any other uses of the blogosphere are suspect.

The 1000 Things Blog is a devious plot by the Church of Latter Day Saints to seep its way into our collective pop culture blogosphere consciousness. By winning over web-gazers with its positive message and easy to follow layout, it can continue to count down to that great powerful #1—which will undoubtedly be revealed as God, probably just as 2012 is upon us (not the release of the movie on DVD, but the real thing)—and continue to gain followers along the way. As well, the devious internet propagandizers of the Church will have us all wearing Snuggies, listening to Jack's Mannequin, believing that Joseph Smith Jr. was visited by an angel in Vermont of all places, and drinking POM (I can't knock them for believing in the importance of antioxidants). Stop the madness.

A Decade Under The Taking Back Sunday Reference Part III

Friends, as I continue this list of my favourite albums of the 00's, I find it necessary to share my recent blogging hang-ups with you. I went a good few months without posting to this very blog. I suppose I was bored, unstimulated, lazy, a mild alcoholic, intimidated by the plethora of other blogs in existence, stymied by the verbose reviews on Pitchfork, more interested in surfing Asian porn, more interested in my other blog, kind of homosexual (the gays just don't blog, it's a scientific fact. That Perez guy is a phony).

Anyway, to my point... The internet can be a fantastic resource. If used properly it can provide one with a googolplex of information, music, pictures of celebrity nipple slips, news, pirated movies, shopping, overpriced resale tickets to see Muse at the ACC, and videos of people hurting themselves in various ways (both sexual and non-sexual). However, the internet is also a farce. It gives too many people an anonymous voice where they can express poorly thought out, poorly researched, and just flat-out inaccurate opinions and "facts." There are far too many music blogs. Though I do not label my blog as simply one of the music review/leak assortment, the musical aspect does account for 75% of my posts. What is the purpose of my blog? Is it simply lost in a sea of malcontent or does it soar above the pack, on some type of sky metaphor?

Guess what, assholes? I don't fucking care. Fuck you all. This blog is for me. I don't care what you think of it. I don't care if my grammar is not impeccable. I don't care if you think my taste in music is lame or passé or predictable or mainstream or too "out there" or just right. Chomp on some sweaty testicles.

Let us carry on with my list...

At The Drive-in - Relationship of Command

It is such a travesty that these Texans called it quits at the start of the decade. The two offshoot bands that rose from the ashes of At The Drive-in's demise never quite satisfied me. Sparta started off with potential, if only because their first album, Wiretap Scars, sounded like a duller ATDI, mostly due to the fact that Omar Rodriguez-Lopez was not in the band. Then with each subsequent album their sound began to morph more towards a fairly generic "alternative rock." As for The Mars Volta, I feel as though I am supposed to respect what they do. They are so progressive. 12 minutes songs, multilingual lyrics, an ever-growing band size, far-out lyrics, mild psychedelia. I can't wrap my head around them. Each album has one or two songs I can tolerate and I suppose the rest require some sort of accompanying psychedelic drug. Not for me.

One could say, I suppose, that ATDI pioneered the new post-hardcore scene that emerged in the 00's. Their swan song, Relationship of Command, sounds commonplace amongst the Thursdays and Brand News of the mid-90s. But wait. It came out in 2000, a good few years before post-hardcore found melody and hooks. Yes, Thursday's Full Collapse came out in 2001 and certainly is an influential album, but it wasn't until 2003's War All The Time that the band began to understand the power of a proper melody and slightly more coherent song structure.Relationship of Command has plenty of melody, plenty of hooks, but also plenty of screaming, meandering song structure, surprisingly effective spoken word, occasional synth, surrealist lyrics, a strong political stance (but not in an overt Rage Against The Machine manner), unorthodox guitar riffs, and spastic tempo shifts. It is like listening to the future of music that never quite manifested itself. Yes, a few bands have lived up to the future that ATDI laid out, specifically Brand New and to a lesser extent Thursday (Common Existence really was bad), but other so-called post-hardcore bands really missed the mark and squandered what ATDI set the groundwork for.

Tegan & Sara - The Con

Completely changing gears from At The Drive-In, another one of my favourites of the decade is twin sisters Tegan & Sara's The Con. Despite each sister writing her own songs on the album separately from the other, The Con finds both on the same wavelength. There is a natural flow to it and you barely notice which sister wrote/sings each song. Death Cab for Cutie's Chris Walla adds an excellent level of production on the album, as the additional layers of percussion, synthesizers, and vocals at his behest help to create a fuller sound.

The Con is still propped up by the folky song structures that the twins have always used. However, it also incorporates plenty of "indie rock" touches, specifically in regards to layered guitar riffs and background synth. Furthermore, the album utilizes a fair amount of experimental percussion, with lots of stop-start rhythms and unconventional drum lines.

Unfortunately, The Con appears to be a diamond in the rough in terms of Tegan & Sara's musical catalogue, as follow-up album Sainthood pales in comparison. Regardless, it is a beautifully haunting album crafted by two adept and intelligent young women.

Taking Back Sunday - Tell All Your Friends

Let's get a few things straight. This is an immature album. What were once profound lyrics to me at 17 are almost laughable teen drama to me now. Regardless, I will still stand by this album. Sure, there are gaps in Tell All Your Friends that send it horribly off course. The last three in particular weigh down the album, especially the out of place pop rocker "You're So Last Summer." Everything about that song makes me cringe. The title. The sucky tune. "Boys like you are a dime a dozen." Gah. Also, closing track "Head Club" is an uncomfortably forced way to end the album. It is as if the band specifically wrote that song as a way to close the album in an "epic" way, but it is so artificial and strained and leaves one unsettled, with its cheesy repetitive chant, "Don't call my name out your window, I'm leaving." Also, don't get me started about the production quality. There is that constant faint buzz in the background on every single track.

I suppose this album sums up teen angst. And guess what? There is nothing wrong with that. It typifies how you feel at that age. Sure, in retrospect it is fucking ridiculous and trivial, but the fact of the matter is that those ridiculously intense life or death emotions are really what you feel as a teenager. You really want the girl who dumped you to get in a car accident. Or at least you think you do because you are too immature to actually think of the consequences of such a tragic event. It just feels right in the immediate present.

I realize I sort of wrote off Brand New's Deja Entendu for the very reasons I am heralding Tell All Your Friends as fantastic, but comparatively, once I realized how much more Brand New had to offer, it caused Deja to take a bit of a backseat.

Even when I saw Taking Back Sunday a couple of years ago and was far past my irrationally emotional angsty period, I still felt a rush when they played "Cute Without The 'E' (Cut from the team)." For those three minutes I was a teen again as I sang along, actually feeling a connection to such inexperienced sentiments as "Why can't I feel anything from anyone other than you?"

The fact that I could feel that way again, if only for a few minutes, proves how strong of an impact Tell All Your Friends had on me and, I can only assume, many others.

Zapf Dingbats!

Loyal reader(s), if you can spot at least one thing wrong with this article from the Health section of Metro, perhaps the finest and most reliable daily publication in the world, you win! (nothing[!])

A Decade Under The Taking Back Sunday Reference Part II

And now I say, let us continue this list of wonder and amazement...

Brand New - The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me

Deja Entendu was a genre-defining album. It is the quintessential emo-rock-with-some-screaming-post-hardcore-whatever album. Also, it is really fucking good. Beyond that, however, it is almost melodramatic to a fault. I was lucky enough to be 18 when the album came out. I felt it was a precise declaration of how I felt. A few years later I realized that I don't feel that way anymore. Not everything is so immediate, so intense, so life/death. Some things are far more important than how the girl you're dating worded a sentence on MSN Messenger.

This is why The Devil and God is one of the best albums of the decade. It marks a shift in Jesse Lacey's songwriting. A realization that there is more to life than how you feel when some girl won't answer your text messages. This album really is about transitioning from carefree teenhood to adulthood. Losing friends. Acquiring new responsibilities. Not living up to your parents' expectations. Not living up to your own expectations. Finding experiences outside of your own and relating to them, or if not relating, understanding them, even when they have nothing to do with you.

Beyond the lyrical content, this albums marks an experimental shift for the band. Sure, there is still that standard quiet-loud dynamic that is a trademark of Brand New's sound. Yet there is also experimentation—not to the point that any song is inaccessible, but to the point that it challenges your comfort with standard song structure.

The Devil and God... is a complete album. It opens with a bang that will catch you off-guard 30 or so seconds into "Sowing Season" and ends with the subdued, melancholy analogy of "Handcuffs." In between, it tells tales of early 20s disillusionment, familial loss, fate, and yes, even love. This album has made me cry, like a little girly-man who loves his Mom a lot. God is it ever good.

Sebastien Grainger and The Mountains

Who would have thought that the drum bashing, mustache-sporting, sexy lyrics-screaming, blasé attitude-possessing Grainger had the capacity to write such definitive, soul-baring rock and roll. Yes, Death From Above 1979 was a kickass band. They proved, far better than The White Stripes, that two-member bands can sufficiently rock. However, Grainger finally faced the emptiness of the sexfuck lyrics and lifestyle of DFA1979. While former bandmate Jesse F. Keeler was off "crafting beats," turning knobs, wearing sunglasses, straightening the brim on his baseball cap, buying tshirts, attending Vice parties, using one hand to hold an earphone to one ear while "spinning" with the other hand, taking the occasional bathroom break...in Miami!, Grainger kept a low profile and began writing the songs that would eventually become his solo debut. Apparently during this time he did quite a bit of maturing as well, as the lyrics on his album are a far cry from the sex-crazed, fuck-if-I-care, care-if-I-fuck ones of DFA1979.

Grainger's album is one of the most earnest I've heard in quite some time. Not only does he bare his soul lyrically, but musically as well. Though the tracks do not have the same bite as those of DFA1979, they are still powerful songs that often still possess a certain edge. This is music that literally everyone can enjoy on some level.

I spent the better part of 2008 gushing about Grainger to cohorts and on this here very blog. I just cannott help myself. He is that damn good.

Blood Brothers - Burn Piano Island, Burn/Crimes/Young Machetes

I have spent a great deal of time pondering in regards to which Blood Brothers album was the most significant to me. I nearly fell victim to the trappings of elitism by concluding that their "older stuff" is far superior. In fact, I was close to tipping my cap to 2003's Burn Piano Island, Burn. It is the band's "major label" debut and was recorded with a paltry $25 000 budget, which seems like a lot of money all in one breath, but really is not when you consider how much studio time costs and then factor in the cost of paying a producer and a mixer. This album marks the Blood Brothers' first concentrated effort. The song structures are still a bit of a mess, but there is quite a bit more coherence than in previous efforts This Adultery is Ripe and March on Electric Children. The barely-controlled chaos of this album keeps you on the edge of your seat. Each track is on the verge of exploding into complete catastrophic noise, but there is a single thread of melody and structure that just barely keeps everything together. Opening track "Guitarmy" is perhaps the finest 39 seconds of music (and a great AFP cover on NYE...) and is a microcosm of what one is to expect from the album. The track opens and closes with chaotic noise, but the main three verses have an identifiable structure and the song has a catchy tune. "Ambulance vs. Ambulance" and "USA Nails" give the middle of the album an incredible jumpy rush and demonstrate the fantastic balance between Johnny Whitney's falsetto-on-acid squeal and Jordan Blilie's gut-busting croon. "The Salesman, Denver Max" is a manic track that opens with a freak-folk verse that once again demonstrates the delicate balance between the two vocalists, while allowing you to briefly catch your breath. However, you know something more frantic is coming and the song is begging you to guess when it will kick in. Then just before the 1:00 mark it kicks in at and odd interval, catching you completely off-guard. The second verse continues with the folky acoustic guitar, but is accompanied by drums and an oddly contradictory funk-inspired bassline. These two offset styles once again demonstrate the very essence of what Blood Brothers are all about. Closing track "The Shame" sets itself up to be a somewhat predictable closer, with its slow-building verses and drumroll-backed chorus. However, the song completely delineates into a spastic drum and bass number with both vocalists screaming to no end just past the 1:00 mark. Then, just as you begin to expect the unexpected, the song returns to its original format, as the slow-building chorus kicks in, this time allowing itself to fully drag out for nearly three minutes, building up with gradually-increasing velocity, echoing guitar, more and more layers of vocals, a snare roll that is ascending towards a seemingly unattainable peak, background reverby "ohhs," all reaching towards a breaking point that once was unattainable yet seems so close now and all you have to do is reach just a little further and stretch out your arms as much as your bones and muscles will allow to grasp it, just a little further, you're almost there, your fingers are fluttering as their tips grace its surface ever so slightly and you're so close you just need to—

In all honesty, out of the Unholy Trinity of Blood Brothers' albums, I enjoy Crimes the least. I feel as though it is the weak bosom-buddy of Burn Piano Island, Burn. The album opens with the groove-heavy "Feed Me to The Forest" that lacks the punch an opening track requires (for this type of band, anyway). However, second track "Trash Flavoured Trash" helps to make up for this lackluster opening. A frantic track with razor-sharp, no-wave inspired guitar, distorted bass, and plenty of yelping and screaming, the albums suddenly appears to have gained its footing. However, although third track "Love Rhymes with Hideous Car Wreck" is a well-crafted song, it is out of place. With its subtle, melodic verse and repetitive-yet-understated chorus, it causes the album to lose the teeth and claws it grew during “Trash Flavoured Trash.” If Anything, “Love Rhymes…” is the type of track that should appear during the last half of a hard-hitting album and showcase the band’s ability to bare its soul and craft a more subtle, “romantic” song. However, Crimes is not that hard-hitting album. Its distinct lack of flow makes it my least favourite of the Unholy Trinity. However, that is not to suggest it is a bad album. It is still on this wicked awesome list.

What would turn out to be the Blood Brothers’ last album, 2006’s Young Machetes, wonderfully balances all aspects of the band’s musical ability. Rather than refer to thesaurus.com as a way to summon the most impressive multi-syllabic adjectives to describe this album and simultaneously impress and delight my readers with an apparent wealth of diction, I will reuse my discussion of Young Machetes from two years ago:

Lyrically, the Brothers reach a healthy balance of surrealism and kitsch on Young Machetes (as always) that causes you to ironically smirk as you ponder the benefits of doing psychoactive drugs. A fine example of this is on the track "Huge Gold AK-47"...Yes, the song is about war with imperialist implications in one sense, but the title is somewhat farcical, it creates a caricature of war. Lyrics range from surreal (yet still straightforward), "Those decadent war swans/With faces half drawn/Slinging blood-soaked carols at the slave ship sun," to comically over the top, "Huge gold Ak-47! Huge gold AK-47!/C'mon, it's 4 am, kick down the gate/And spray your ammo like champagne." By creating this type of caricature, we can actually take the song more seriously if we would like to...

On top of all this, the music just sounds fucking cool. Fast-paced, powerful, repetitive in a call-to-arms kind of way. It's music you can listen to on the subway and find yourself nodding your head, then moving your shoulders to and fro, then really nodding your head spastically, open palms banging your knees along with the beat, then in a flurry of self-consciousness realizing that you appear to other passengers to be having a seizure and thinking "perhaps I should tone it down a bit, they keep looking at me from the corners of their eyes," but then not giving a damn and continuing. Fuckers.

Beyond these astute observations from two years ago, I will also point out that Young Machetes is structured in the precise manner that I suggested Crimes should have been. The album opens perfectly with a powerful, fast-paced, energetic first half. The opening 1-2 punch (woo sports!) of “Set Fire to The Face on Fire” and “We Ride Skeletal Lightning” sets the pace for the ensuing frantic path that is to be followed. In fact, Young Machetes barely stops to take a breather. There are a couple of mid-tempo numbers including “Lazer Life” and “Life The Veil, Kiss The Tank,” but even these two tracks ascend towards a more intense peak during each respective bridge. Ditto for closing track “Giant Swan,” which beautifully culminates the album through its dark storytelling, melodic vocal line, and catch-you-off-guard bridge. Finally, rather than aim for the unexpected, the Brothers end the track and the album with a gentle wind down and a simple closing of the curtains. A wonderful way to end the final act of a fast-paced, theatrical album and ultimately, the band’s career.

A Decade Under The Taking Back Sunday Reference

On Christmas day I began to compile my favourite albums of the 00's. Not necessarily because anyone really should care about my opinions, I mean we have the Hype Machine blog aggregator and the Conservative Party for that. AmIRight?! In fact, I began to do so out of sheer boredom.

Anyway, it ended up being a more daunting task than I initially assumed and have still not completed my list. Perhaps my commentary regarding each album is a little over the top and simply too long. I have decided to begin posting these albums in a few volumes as I edit the original entries (I was kind of drunk when writing them...)

Here it goes....

Radiohead - Hail to The Thief

Yes, Kid A is a fantastic album and certainly helped shape the course of alternative rock for years to come. One must not ignore its significance in the cannon of music. The true songs on the album are weird, organic, pulsating, yet still poppy enough to be enjoyed by many. There are a few songs that are inaccessible and break up the album. Also, it is a fairly short album. As the turn of the century occurred, I noticed a reduction in tracks on albums. From this point on the average album only contained 10 tracks.

Yes, "Idioteque" certainly is one of the best songs ever. Other standouts on the album include "The National Anthem" and "Morning Bell." However, it is not a complete album. It lacks a distinct flow. It is a collection of songs that don't necessarily relate to each other. Some tracks utilize electronic experimentation and very little traditional rock band instrumentation. Then suddenly a track like "Optimistic" jumps out, that sounds like the Radiohead of OK Computerand throws the album off course. Ditto for follow-up (or connected b-side type album)Amnesiac.

Well, check this out. 2003's Hail to The Thief has 14 fucking tracks. Guess what else, jerkbutts? It starts out with a pretty straightforward rock song, "2+2=5." Ultimately, Hail to The Thiefmarks a return to the experimental art-rock of OK Computer, but with a newly informed perspective shaped by Kid A. Kid A might be one the most significant albums of the decade, butHail to The Thief is simply one of the best. Hail to The Thief is a depressing album. However, it is the kind of depressing that forces me to acknowledge feelings of grief and sadness that I typically try to avoid. Listening to the album and facing these emotions make me feel alive and ultimately provide me with a bittersweet happiness that I will never be able to properly articulate. Ah, diddums.

Deftones - White Pony

This album will stand out as the peak of the Deftones' career. By far one of the most underrated bands of the past decade, the Deftones were unfortunately grouped with nu-metal bands like Korn and Limp Bizkit in the early 00's and sludgy, slated-to-open-for-Nickelback, pop-metal bands like Breaking Benjamin in the later years of the decade. I could go so far as to make a Rodney Dangerfield reference, but I won't. You know, Rodney Dangerfield? Really? Fuck.

White Pony is an album abound with the full breadth of Chino Moreno's vocal depth. He wails. He moans. He whispers. He screams. He even croons. All done so in his specific off-kilter way, where often you cannot tell if he is slightly off-key or hitting special notes that only dogs can hear.

The songs themselves reach far beyond the realm of metal. Yes, the chugging riffs are still present, but so are smoother melodic touches on tracks like "Digital Bath," "Korea," and "Pink Maggit." Ambient electronic flourishes complement nearly every track on the album and especially stand out on "Change (In The House of Flies)," "Passenger," and "Teenager."

Moreno's lyrics are as ambiguously cryptic and morbid as ever on this album and are even more resonant when sung in his manic, whispery manner atop a background of distorted guitars, ambient noise, and soothing beats. White Pony is an album that could never be fully comprehended by the Deftones' Ozzfest-attending fans and was written off by nay-saying elitists who branded the band as another rapscallion nu-metal group. However, White Pony is a progressive, introspective, manic depressive album that deserves deeper thought and greater recognition.

The Good The Bad And The Queen

By now, Damon Albarn is a household name even here "across the pond, in the colonies." If you don't know him for singing that "woohoo" song with Blur, you possibly know him for the many characters of the Gorillaz. If you don't know him for either of those then you're a jabberwocky.

What even less people know him for is his brief "superband" that was often referred to as The Good, The Bad, And the Queen. In fact, that is the name of the album released by the Albarn-fronted superband. The band itself chose to be nameless.

The other members of this superband include: former bassist of the Clash, Paul Simonon, who wrote and sang what is arguably one of the band's best songs, "Guns of Brixton;" former guitarist for The Verve (you know, those guys who "stole" part of a Rolling Stones song), Simon Tong; Afrobeat pioneer and drumming virtuoso Tony Allen. Together, the four men releasedThe Good, The Bad, And The Queen, a one-off album by a supergroup that feels as though it was written by a veteran band that has been together for years and put out a culminating album that brings all their strengths to the table in a perfectly balanced way. By no means is it a forced supergroup kind of album in which each musician fights to put forth his greatest strength, like those Chicken Foot assholes.

The Good, The Bad, and The Queen is a well-thought out, well-produced (by that Danger Mouse chap), and well-executed album that is never overstated. Every track has a wonderful hook that is not overtly presented, but is still prevalent enough that it politely tugs at your collar and forces you to nod your head. Tony Allen's percussion is often so subtle you barely notice it, but when teamed with Paul Simonon's reggae-influenced bass lines a solid, groove-heavy rhythmic backbone is established. Simon Tong's guitar playing is never too prominent on any song, rather it either adds ambiance or complements Albarn's falsetto piano. Finally, Albarn's lyrics (many of which were written with Simonon's assistance) follow a conceptual path, as each song is about a different aspect of modern life in London.

This album is the product of four well-travelled and extremely talented musicians coming together, putting egos aside, and simply crafting a fantastic piece of art. Spot on.

Class, the word of the day is "blasé"

I realize this is an alternacultural aesthetic that all artistic, self-aggrandizing youths should strive towards, especially when someone nearby potentially has a camera, but I'd prefer not to look like such an androgynous, self-assured, vitamin-D deprived prick.