Kate Bush - "Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)"

Recently, as part of KEXP's fall pledge drive, the independent Seattle station asked its listeners to vote for their 10 favorite albums of all time. (My ballot is here.) I was very curious to see how things would shake out, mostly because it seemed a very obvious indicator of who, exactly, listens to KEXP -- or, at least, who goes to the trouble of voting in polls.

This is all very unscientific, of course, but among the things that surprised me about the results was the fact that the highest-ranked album from a female artist was ... Kate Bush's Hounds of Love at No. 50. (I'm not counting the Pixies, which had Kim Deal back during the Doolittle days.) Bush charted higher than Joni Mitchell, Liz Phair, Aretha Franklin, PJ Harvey, Neko Case, Sinead O'Connor, you name it. (And I'm going to take this opportunity to say that I was stunned that the KEXP listeners think so little of I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got that it didn't even show up in the Top 666 albums that the station counted down. What's wrong with all you people?)

What accounts for Bush's strong showing? In general, the KEXP audience tends to enjoy artists who fall into the New Wave/art-pop/slightly goth-y sound of the 1980s. (The Cure's Disintegration is all the way up at No. 8.) So I've been trying to give Hounds of Love a chance of late; my wife has the album and is a fan. We'll see if I become a convert.

James Brown - "Give It Up or Turnit a Loose"

Yesterday, the mighty KEXP devoted an entire day to It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back, playing every track from the seminal Public Enemy album but also playing every song sampled on the record. As was commented on during the programming, a celebration of Nation of Millions is also a celebration of James Brown, whose tracks and beats help form that masterpiece's rhythmic spine. Clap your hands, stomp your feet.

The Top 10 Albums of the 21st Century (so far)

The all-mighty KEXP is asking its listeners to select their favorite albums of the 21st century, with the results being broadcast during the nonprofit station's Fall Donor Drive starting September 13. (You have until September 4 if you'd like to submit your own ballot.)

This countdown seemed like a perfect excuse to start thinking about my own picks for the new century. You may recall that I put together a list of the top albums of the first decade -- the "Aughts" or whatever it was we decided to call it -- and occasionally I'll mentally rearrange that list and add new worthy albums to the hopper as each year passed. But KEXP's pledge drive inspired me to put them down in some sort of concrete form.

It also inspired me to do some serious listening. There were about 15 albums I considered for my final 10, and the last two weeks have been devoted to me popping them in, an album at a time, and focusing from start to finish. This was incredibly valuable, revealing how a record's strength can sometimes grow significantly by hearing its songs in order. This should be obvious, but it was good to be reminded of such a simple truism. Even in our digital, single-driven era, sequencing matters.

As is probably obvious, I spent more time thinking about my KEXP ballot than probably any other contributor did, including maybe even some of the station's DJs. As a longtime list obsessive, I believe that putting one of these things together should be undertaken with the utmost seriousness. Of course there's pleasure involved -- you're judging different degrees of artistic excellence -- but if it's actually possible that something this subjective can be done "correctly," I'm hellbent on achieving it.

So, of course, I also went to the trouble of ranking them. And explaining why each album appears where it does. You'd think I actually had the free time to waste on such enjoyable ephemera. 

10. Erykah Badu, New Amerykah Part One (4th World War) (2008)

Erykah Badu's first album in five years came about after suffering from writer's block and finding a new way of expressing herself by screwing around making music on the computer. New Amerykah Part One extends the hypnotic black-hole introspection of D'Angelo's Voodoo and points the way toward Kanye West's 808s & Heartbreak (which came out nine months after New Amerykah Part One) and later gems like the Weeknd's House of Balloons. Bedroom funk that wrestles with issues both personal and political, New Amerykah Part One can't help but feel a touch self-absorbed, but the intensity of Badu's feelings extend out to the rest of us, touching on death ("Telephone"), self-empowerment ("Me") and sex ("Honey"). 

9. Clipse, Hell Hath No Fury (2006)

The Neptunes' best production work, even better than In Search of..., comes on this dense, hard, not particularly listener-friendly effort by Clipse, the Virginian duo who were angry about their label issues and wanted everyone to know how much better they were at the crack game than your favorite gangster rapper was. Unsentimental and sonically inventive, Hell Hath No Fury is hardly the first hip-hop album obsessed with money, crime and loose women. But what's endlessly startling is how little Pusha T and Malice's rhymes benefit from shock value. The violent "Chinese New Year" and the jet-setting "Mr. Me Too" are equally matter-of-fact in their steeliness, Clipse going about their ill-gotten business as if it's just another day.  

8. Yo La Tengo, And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out (2000)

Yo La Tengo's most beloved albums tend to be the ones where the trio stretch out in all directions, as on I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One. But I've preferred this more monochromatic follow-up for more than 10 years now, which I suppose means it's a permanent condition. With Thurston Moore and Kim Gordon having called it quits, Georgia Hubley and Ira Kaplan are our greatest indie-rock marriage, their albums a fascinating and comforting back-and-forth between the two musicians about the minute ups and downs of a relationship that sure sounds like it's built to last -- but only if they continue to do the work that all great relationships require. And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out is one of the band's quieter, gentler efforts, but you'd be hard-pressed to name an album with so many ballads that are so suffused with anxiety. But there's guarded optimism in these songs, too -- the same sort you see at the end of Before Midnight, when everything seems terrible between Celine and Jesse and yet you're sure they're going to find a way to figure it out.

7. Frank Ocean, Channel Orange (2012)

First catching my attention with his supremely soulful, moving and searching "We All Try" from his Nostalgia, Ultra mixtape, Frank Ocean went on to release this official debut, which the whole world loved, including me. Navigating a musical terrain where R&B and pop are essentially the same thing, just more intriguing and more personal, Channel Orange got a lot of press at the time because of Ocean's admission that his first meaningful romantic relationship was with a man, which no doubt inspired some to scan the album for clues. (They needed to look no further than the wrenching gospel confessional "Bad Religion.") But my hunch is that, as time goes by, we'll forget that media frenzy and simply appreciate the fluid musicianship of the record, which calls to mind Prince and Stevie Wonder while displaying a sharp eye for lyrical portraits, such as the spoiled L.A. of "Super Rich Kids" and the sympathetic tale of a drugged-out loser on "Crack Rock."

6. Bob Dylan, Love and Theft (2001)

Forever linked to 9/11, the day the album hit stores, Love and Theft seemed to echo the dark, uncertain months that followed the deadly terror attacks. But from today's vantage point, it's also clear that the album was Dylan at his most lighthearted and devil-may-care, staring down bad women, war and metaphorical floods with a shit-eating grin and a debonair strut. Bono once called Love and Theft a comedy album, and he meant it as a compliment. I do, too: The juxtaposition of bad puns, good puns and clever turns of phrase matches the easy sweep of the album's transition from rockabilly to swing to Bing Crosby-style balladry. That he made such a life-affirming album as he was approaching 60 is both humbling and inspiring.

5. Kanye West, The College Dropout (2004)

The 21st century's greatest musical artist quite possibly made his best album first time out. But the richness of The College Dropout, especially thematically, is such that it's provided the road map for the rest of his career. His love/hate relationship with materialism ("All Falls Down"), his struggle with the divine ("Jesus Walks"), his troubling attitude toward women ("The New Workout Plan"), his constant reminders to the world that we haven't given him his rightful props ("Last Call"), his tenderness toward his family ("Family Business") and his anger toward White America ("Spaceship") have powered powerful, glitzier subsequent records -- all of them with their distinct selling points. But The College Dropout tops them because of the one quality none of the others possesses: a winning, natural charm that the young up-and-comer utilized as deftly as his beats and samples.

4. Arcade Fire, The Suburbs (2010)

It seems that Arcade Fire fans prefer the band's first record, Funeral, which has always felt too self-consciously "arty" and "epic" to work fully on me. By my count, this group has only gotten better with each album, crystallizing Bush-era angst superbly on Neon Bible and then delivering a mature self-portrait on this third disc. It is very easy for acclaimed, commercially successful indie acts to write songs about those damn hipsters and how weird it is getting old. But The Suburbs is something different: a genuinely stately and personal approach to overdone topics like fame and age that's matched by music that rarely reaches for the epic but is far too supple and deeply felt to be described as navel-gazing. 

3. Neko Case, Fox Confessor Brings the Flood (2006)

This album's first two tracks, "Margaret vs. Pauline" and "Star Witness," are so perfect -- fraught with feeling, dense with inscrutable detail -- that one can be forgiven for overlooking the array of treasures that stretch on afterward. But with Fox Confessor Brings the Flood, the onetime punk and New Pornographers vocalist lives up to her promise by adopting an Old Weird America persona that's attuned to gospel, country and rock in equal measure. She's always had that unbelievable voice, but with Fox Confessor she found a language to express her enigmatic longing that's always enchanting without ever being concrete. You keep listening in the hopes of unraveling the song's mysteries that, happily, are never, ever revealed.

2. The Roots, How I Got Over (2010)

Has any band benefited more from selling out? When the Roots decided to accept Jimmy Fallon's offer to be the house band for his late-night show, they secured for themselves one of the most stable paying jobs in all of popular music, especially for acts of their age and profile. And all the Roots have done during that time is produce some of the finest work of their career. The anxiety of balancing that day job is all over How I Got Over, sometimes explicitly in the lyrics but also subtly in the let's-get-down-to-business vibe of the no-nonsense arrangements. Reaching out to indie rock but focusing on the urban fears that fame hasn't completely erased, How I Got Over is astoundingly eloquent in wondering how life's choices open some doors while closing others.

1. The Shins, Chutes Too Narrow (2003)

What would the world think of James Mercer if Garden State had never happened? That 2004 film with its earnest indie-rock soundtrack cemented him and his band the Shins as the champions of a particular era's sensitive-feelings musical sweepstakes. Consequently, Garden State also made anything the Shins did afterward anticlimactic: Their glowing pop craftsmanship had reached its peak, and it was destined to be all downhill from there. Which is my way of saying that while Chutes Too Narrow may seem like little more than a time-capsule item, it remains stunningly fresh. A wimp he may be, but Mercer enters the pantheon of indie songwriters on this 10-track, 34-minute beauty, in which the songs are predominantly gentle while masking their darker feelings about modern life ("So Says I") and irretrievable happy memories ("Pink Bullets"). Only rarely since has Mercer produced songs of such emotion and effortless precision. That's fine: For one exquisite album, he went 10-for-10. 

My Top 20 Albums of the Last 40 Years

My beloved KEXP is celebrating its 40th anniversary by asking its listeners to pick their Top 20 albums of the last 40 years. In other words, what do people think are the best albums of the post-Beatles/Kind of Blue era? For the fun of it, I decided to vote and, like with my Sight & Sound ballot, I opted for quick, intuitive picks rather than laboring over my selections. In both cases, I feel like I got to something purer -- and, hopefully, more honest -- than if I had allowed second thoughts to cloud my process. KEXP didn't ask for these to be ranked, so I won't bother doing that here. Instead, they'll be listed alphabetically by album title, with a few stray observations where appropriate...

Appetite for Destruction, Guns N' Roses
Nothing any of these people have done since came close. 

Blood on the Tracks, Bob Dylan
Confirmation that I'm a sap at heart, Blood on the Tracks cuts me deeper than Dylan's '60s masterpieces. Opens with "Tangled Up in Blue," possibly his greatest song. Concludes with "Buckets of Rain," also possibly his greatest song. Such a magnificent album even the so-so "Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts" can't derail it.

Born in the U.S.A., Bruce Springsteen
I've been told that if I was from another generation, I'd understand that Born to Run is really Springsteen's best record. Maybe, maybe not.

Call Me, Al Green
Never-ending beauty.

Chutes Too Narrow, The Shins
More thoughts on this album here.

The Dark Side of the Moon, Pink Floyd
I'm the furthest thing from a stoner or a concept-album fanatic. And yet I love this record.

Endtroducing..., DJ Shadow
For the record, he's made good albums after this one.

For the Roses, Joni Mitchell
Not a popular choice among Mitchell fans, who would probably cite Blue or Court and Spark. I prefer the challenging arrangements and thoughtful anxiety of For the Roses, which she put out in between the other two.

I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got, Sinead O'Connor
Lord, do I worry for the sanity of this talented woman.

Illmatic, Nas
I slept on Illmatic when it came out. I'm making up for it by playing the hell out of this album throughout my adult life.

In Utero, Nirvana
Why, yes, I am one of those guys who thinks this is the better Nirvana record. Just as catchy as Nevermind but even angrier and confused. Probably the greatest dealing-with-fame album ever.

It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back, Public Enemy
Friends have made convincing arguments about why Fear of a Black Planet is PE's true masterpiece. For now, I'm sticking with this one.

Marquee Moon, Television
I always swear I'm going to just listen to "See No Evil." And then I listen to the whole thing.

Never Mind the Bullocks, Here's the Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols
The Clash have the greater legacy, but none of their albums is top-to-bottom as corrosive as Bullocks.

OK Computer, Radiohead
Remember when people claimed this was the '90s' answer to The Dark Side of the Moon? Wow, were they dumb.

Pretzel Logic, Steely Dan
My favorite band who don't have one indisputably perfect album. There's a Steely Dan record for every mood, but I went with Pretzel Logic because, when push came to shove, it's the one that called to me the most.

Ramones, Ramones
My biggest surprise in the Top 20, mostly because I don't listen to it all that much. But, c'mon, how can you argue with its bam-bam-bam-bam brilliance?

Rust Never Sleeps, Neil Young
In retrospect, should I have gone with After the Gold Rush? You know, maybe I should have. (Update: Ah, yes, After the Gold Rush came out in 1970, so it doesn't count.)

Sail Away, Randy Newman
12 Songs and Good Old Boys have their champions. Sail Away has less filler.

69 Love Songs, The Magnetic Fields
One day, I will get my wife to understand what a wonderful album this is.

Father John Misty - "Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings"

This week's Friday Video presents an interesting dilemma: What do you do when you really like a song but really don't like its video?

Father John Misty is the recording name for Josh Tillman, who used to be the drummer for Fleet Foxes. "Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings" isn't very Fleet Foxes-y, though, which I consider a good thing. Not that there's anything inherently wrong with them, but as Tillman explained, "I don’t even like wound-licking music, I want to listen to someone rip their arm off and beat themselves with it."

"Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings" shouldn't be confused with death metal, but it's powerfully moody and insistent in a way that Fleet Foxes isn't. Anyway, I dig it. As for the video, well, it violates a few rules I have about the medium. First, its plot is way too complicated; it gets in the way of listening to the song, which has something of a plot itself. Then there's the problem of hiring the hip indie actress (in this case, Aubrey Plaza) to be your video's star. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it just seems like some sort of attempt on the artist's part to get an endorsement from a particular audience niche. So even if you hate the video, you might like the song. I hope you do, anyway.

And thanks to the invaluable KEXP for introducing me to "Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings" in the first place.

baby dayliner - you push I'll go

Have a great Labor Day weekend, everyone. And thanks to KEXP for introducing this song to me.

the avett brothers - "i and love and you"

"I and Love and You" first caught my ear thanks to KEXP months ago -- I'd be lost without that station. I hadn't heard the track in a bit, and then it stumbled back into my life this week. Yeah, this is a damn pretty song.