Concerned (But Powerless)

Best of 2005: Music

I may have to issue an apology for any past scorn that I've heaped in the direction of music critics. As I set about compiling this list, it rapidly became apparent that writing about enjoyable music is a great deal more challenging than I'd blithely assumed. In my defense, it's a bit of a bitch to attempt to listen to and judge an entire year's worth of new tunes without the aid of an iPod (and yes, I can already hear the world's smallest violin playing just for me). During the orgiastic consumer spending spree known as the month of December, I came dangerously close to becoming the last person on the planet to finally plunk down the requisite cash. Alas, my computer had other ideas, choosing to go on the fritz after six years of loyal service, so now the Hamiltons will likely be spent on an even more ludicrously expensive "modern necessity."

Alright, enough meandering; I'll dispense with any grand sweeping statements about the musical year that was, and present my thoughts on my top ten albums of 2005, with assorted runners-up and sweeping dismissals at bottom:

10. 
I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning
by Bright Eyes

It seems as if most of the music nerds I'm acquainted with (or whose reviews I read) fall squarely into "Love Bright Eyes" or "Hate Bright Eyes" camps. As my first exposure to Conor Oberst occurred during a summer of heartbroken wallowing, I predictably joined the former club, vacuuming up the admittedly lugubrious balladeering and overwrought emotion of 2002's Lifted, or The Story is in the Soil, Keep Your Ear to the Ground. In the wake of 2004's disastrous presidential election, I'd assumed that Bright Eyes' next offering would find fervent lefty Oberst focusing his prodigious songwriting skills squarely on matters political. As expected, some of the finest moments of I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning are those in which Oberst is at his most righteously confrontational; witness the impassioned, explosive climaxes of "Landlocked Blues" and "Road to Joy," particularly the guttural anti-war incantations in the latter song. Nearly as effective are the quieter moments in songs like "At the Bottom of Everything" and "Old Soul Song (For the New World Order)," in which Oberst's lyrics coax a smile from the listener's face without delving too precariously into maudlin theatricality. It's a pleasant surprise in the wake of the deadly serious Lifted, and though the album may not contain moments as weighty and heartfelt as those of its predecessor, Oberst's decidedly lower-key approach and burgeoning range as a songwriter render I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning an extremely enjoyable listen.

Three terrific tracks: "At the Bottom of Everything," "Landlocked Blues," "Road to Joy"

09.
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
by Clap Your Hands Say Yeah

For a while, I stubbornly avoided listening to the debut offering from these moronically-monikered Brooklynites, largely in knee-jerk reaction to the twin annoyances of an overly fawning Pitchfork review and the idiotic critical backlash that predictably followed the early adulation directed toward the band. Ultimately, my desire to see what the fuss was about superseded my aversion to insipid hipster pissing contests, and upon listening I was rewarded with a surprisingly diverse, impressively melodious effort. The album's much-derided opening track, the circus-inspired "Clap Your Hands!," immediately perked up my ears (likely due to the fact that I'm a sucker for all things vaudevillian), and the songs noted below constitute the year's best consecutive trifecta of tunes. It's difficult to reconcile my enjoyment of the album's earnest catchiness with the nagging feeling that I've heard nearly every instrumental sound and vocal inflection employed by earlier (and much better) bands, but the record nonetheless stands as one of the year's few interesting debuts. Now, about that name...

Three terrific tracks: "By the Skin of My Yellow Country Teeth," "Is This Love?," "Heavy Metal"

08.
You Could Have It So Much Better
by Franz Ferdinand

Now that's a band name. Dashing my pessimistic expectations, the archdukes followed up last year's improbable smash with a superior effort, augmenting the pulsing '80s dance rhythms that fueled their self-titled debut with superior songwriting and increasingly confident instrumentation. I never would have predicted that the band could craft a song more exciting and energetic than "Take Me Out," but "Do You Want To" comes damn close, and is buttressed by a rollicking opening number ("The Fallen") and several other superb selections. Even the band's risky foray into Beatles-esque balladeering, "Eleanor Put Your Boots On," manages not to disappoint. Perhaps most impressive of all, the tracks noted below manage the unlikely feat of inspiring yours truly -- as dancing-averse a person as you're ever likely to meet -- to break out into the White Boy Shuffle on occasion. (On extremely desolate occasions, of course.)

Three terrific tracks: "The Fallen," "Do You Want To," "This Boy"

07. 
Tanglewood Numbers
by Silver Jews

A great deal of this year's best music addresses typically thorny topics -- government corruption, doomed love, war, suicide, apathy -- with angry aural assaults, but the playful arrangements and nonsensical lyrics of Tanglewood Numbers manage to make depressing issues sound downright groovy. One of those groups I'd always intended to listen to but never caught up with until this year, the current incarnation of singer/songwriter David Berman's Silver Jews (composed of myriad musicians, including Berman's wife, various members of Pavement, and even Stephen Malkmus himself) put together the year's poppiest and most entertaining exploration of melancholy. Berman's wily rasp is front and center in each of his opaque anthems, backed by simple yet accomplished guitar-driven melodies that sometimes build to rapid, cathartic climaxes, like the evocative album closer "There is a Place." But the most endearing aspect of Tanglewood Numbers is Berman's sardonic wit, which prevents the album from succumbing to pretension despite its heady subject matter, and provides a particularly salient insight that I'll cherish the next time I drive past a petting zoo: I'd never thought about it before, but it certainly it makes sense to assume that sometimes ponies do get depressed.

Three terrific tracks: "Sometimes A Pony Gets Depressed," "I'm Getting Back into Getting Back into You," "There is a Place"

06.
Gimme Fiction
by Spoon

While it would be foolish to expect Spoon to surpass the mastery they achieved with 2002's Kill the Moonlight (one of the best records of the past decade), Gimme Fiction represents a solid step forward. The album witnesses Britt Daniel & Co. gradually eschewing the instrumental and vocal sparseness that characterized their previous efforts, layering slinky strings and jagged guitar riffs upon superb tracks like "The Two Sides of Monsieur Valentine" and "The Beast and Dragon, Adored," and even sprinkling rainstorms and handclaps into late highlight "They Never Got You." In the hands of a less skilled band, such experimentation could have proven disastrous, but songs like the astonishing (and seemingly Bee Gees-inspired) "I Turn My Camera On" reflect that the group is capable of throwing its listeners a curveball without leaving them pining for the band's earlier efforts. While Spoon certainly didn't blow the doors off of the indie rock auditorium this time around, Gimme Fiction marks a powerful progression in the band's sound. I can't wait to see what they come up with next.

Three terrific tracks: "The Beast and Dragon, Adored," "I Summon You," "They Never Got You"

05.
Late Registration
by Kanye West

Try to ignore the incessant pomposity, the anti-college posturing, the Pepsi commercials, the annoying skits, and the fact that his infamous telethon ad lib would have been ten times as powerful had he said "poor" instead of "black," and simply revel in a superb compendium of songs from an artist so far ahead of his mainstream contemporaries that it isn't even fair. West immediately embedded himself in my good graces by enlisting producer/mad genius Jon Brion (who will be lauded in even more embarrassingly enthusiastic fashion on this list shortly). Brion's instrumental work has fascinated me ever since I heard his terrific score for Paul Thomas Anderson's Magnolia, and his first foray into hip-hop is downright electrifying. Brion's typically divine strings and jaunty ornate keyboards prevent West's flashy samples and occasionally pompous lyrics from overwhelming the listener, while the rapper's forceful delivery and willingness to hurl bombastic sentiments far and wide provide an excellent counterbalance, rendering moot any misguided complaints that Brion's contributions are too precious or overproduced.

Aside from occasional duds like "Bring Me Down," Late Registration is nearly flawless, although the annoying requisite skits (centering upon a college fraternity unimaginatively dubbed Broke Phi Broke) weren't remotely amusing the first time I heard them, let alone after dozens of listens (no iPod, remember?). West earned a great deal of admiration by condemning hip-hop's endemic homophobia; perhaps in the future he can focus on eradicating humorless, momentum-destroying skits from the genre. Anyway, in the coming years I fully expect a cavalcade of rappers to begin flailing about with orchestral arrangements and atypical duet partners in a foolhardy attempt to mimic the masterful synergy West achieves with Brion and guests like Adam Levine, Jamie Foxx, Cam'Ron, and, of course, Jay-Z. I'll be shocked if any of the pretenders manage to create a single song as dense, sweeping, and powerful as (sorta-)album-closer "Gone," or as flat-out entertaining as the ubiquitous "Gold Digger."

Three terrific tracks: "Heard 'Em Say," "Gold Digger," "Gone"

04.
Extraordinary Machine [Bootleg Jon Brion-Produced Version]
by Fiona Apple

We come now to the year's enduring musical tragedy, an album I can barely write about without muttering obscenities under my breath. Ideally, Extraordinary Machine would have resided near the top of a "Best of 2003" list, but, as the now-infamous story goes, Sony executives "didn't hear a single," and subsequently refused to release it. I'd hoped for a positive conclusion along the lines of Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot fiasco, but figured it would be futile to expect the ignorant conglomerate to release the record from its clutches. Shockingly, it was Apple who ultimately pulled the rug out from under this version of the album, jettisoning the bulk of Brion's production work and returning to the studio to record what's been billed as a more standard, mainstream-friendly drum-and-bass-infused version with hip-hop producer Mike Elizondo.

I don't imagine I'll ever listen to that version of the album, because it would be impossible for any producer to imbue Apple's plaintive anthems with a modicum of the percussive perfection achieved by Brion. Building upon their eye-opening collaboration on 1999's When the Pawn..., Brion emboldens Apple's throaty declarations with kinetic melodies and fascinating orchestral soundscapes, loading the record with pristine string arrangements, vaudevillian keyboards, and a cavalcade of fascinating sounds that surpass even his groundbreaking work on Late Registration and last year's I ♥ Huckabees and Eternal Sunshine soundtracks. Apple matches him step-for-step, ferociously pounding her piano keys as she enumerates her emotional tumult with stunning lyricism and masterful wordplay that most of her "songstress" contemporaries could never hope to equal, even if they managed to corral Colin Meloy as a co-writer.

Now that the butchered version of the album has become a critical and commercial success, there are rumblings that Apple has asked Brion to return to the studio and compile Extraordinary Machine exactly as he would have preferred, so perhaps 2006 will provide the vindicating Yankee Hotel moment that should have occurred three years ago. And yes, I realize that my complaints come off as petty, entitled whining -- what right do I have to whinge if Apple is satisfied with the way things turned out? But the sad fact remains: this album should have been wowing listeners two years ago, but instead may ultimately amount to little more than a forgotten footnote in Apple's career.

Three Many terrific tracks: Didn't hear a single?! A record company that can't successfully market an album featuring songs as fantastic as "Not About Love," "Red Red Red," "Better Version of Me," "Get Him Back," "Waltz," "Extraordinary Machine," and "Please Please Please" deserves the economic ruination it continually bewails.

03.
The Woods
by Sleater-Kinney

I enjoyed Sleater-Kinney's previous efforts, particularly All Hands on the Bad One, but little in their past catalogue prepared me for the blistering sonic assault of The Woods. From the piercing squeal that opens the album to the final chords of "Night Light," The Woods is an angry, unrelenting triumph. Carrie Brownstein's scorching electric guitar work comes closer to emulating the beautiful fury of Jimi Hendrix and Jimmy Page -- often cited by both reviewers and the band alike as conscious inspirations for the album -- than anything I've heard this millennium. Admirably, Brownstein isn't content to merely ape her classic rock predecessors; in the affecting "Jumpers" and "Modern Girl," the band mutes the feedback and meaty soloing just a tad, allowing Corin Tucker's marvelous vocals to take center stage. Elsewhere, "Entertain" is the kind of incendiary political screed that the country could have used in the run-up to Nov. 4, and I haven't yet tired of blasting tracks like the psychedelic rock-out "Let's Call it Love" and the fuzz-laden "Wilderness" at maximum volume. To put it more concisely: this album fucking rocks.

Three terrific tracks: "The Fox," "Jumpers," "Rollercoaster"

02.
Picaresque
by The Decemberists

Her Majesty the Decemberists was one of 2003's most intriguing offerings, an appealing combination of hyperliterate songwriting and quirky instrumentation replete with great songs like the menacing "The Chimbley Sweep," the affecting "I Was Meant for the Stage," and my personal anthem for life in SoCal, the charmingly cynical "Los Angeles, I'm Yours." On The Tain EP, the band further honed its songcraft, and revealed an intensifying command of flat-out rocking melodies. With Picaresque, the group displays an even more accomplished command of its sound, augmenting its usual elegiac accordions and harrowing violins with occasional forays into soaring horn arrangements (the phenomenal "Sixteen Military Wives") and "A Day in the Life"-like explosions of sound (the heartwrenching "The Bagman's Gambit"). Above all, it is Colin Meloy's remarkable facility with language that elevates the album to the ranks of the truly sublime. Never hesitant to festoon a tune with enough ten-dollar words to make an English professor blush, Meloy breathes vivid life into vignettes centering upon downtrodden characters like a wearied athlete, a lovelorn government employee, and a vengeful sailor. The first time I listened to Picaresque, during a rainy road trip to Northern California that provided the perfect backdrop for Meloy's tenebrous tales, it was immediately apparent that the album would stand as one of the year's most impressive works. After enjoying it for the past nine months, taking in the band's fantastic live show in September, and listening to the epic "The Mariner's Revenge Song" far too many times, I still haven't ceased marveling at the accomplished beauty and unapologetic sincerity of Picaresque.

Three terrific tracks: "The Infanta," "Sixteen Military Wives," "The Mariner's Revenge Song"

01.
Illinois
by Sufjan Stevens

There's little I could write about Stevens' masterwork that others haven't already expressed far more eloquently, and nothing I could type that would do justice to his singular achievement. Illinois tops this list because over the course of its 74 mesmerizing minutes, Stevens manages to out-emote Conor Oberst, out-storytell Colin Meloy, out-orchestrate Jon Brion, and just plain outdo anyone else who released an album in 2005. The second of the supposed 50 state-specific albums Stevens plans to create, Illinois is the most insanely ambitious and improbably fantastic concept album since the Flaming Lips' Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots. Not satisfied to merely name-check the state's most notable native sons, Stevens delves deep into their psyches, crafting character studies both harrowing ("John Wayne Gacy, Jr.") and deeply affecting ("The Man of Metropolis Steals Our Hearts"). Stevens supplements his tender singing with heavenly backing vocals and consistently unexpected arrangements; even the album's occasional instrumental interludes are suffused with lush orchestration. Worthy of every bit of the hyperbole thrown its way, Stevens' Illinois is a fascinating, imaginative, unexpected masterpiece.

Three terrific tracks: "Jacksonville," "Chicago," "The Man of Metropolis Steals Our Hearts"

***

The next ten, in vague order of preference:

• The Mouse and the Mask by DangerDoom
• LCD Soundsystem by LCD Soundsystem
• Thunder, Lightning, Strike by The Go! Team
• Strange Geometry by The Clientele
• Get Behind Me Satan by The White Stripes
• Twin Cinema by The New Pornographers
• Z by My Morning Jacket
• Apologies to the Queen Mary by Wolf Parade
• Alligator by The National
• Demon Days by Gorillaz

Disappointments:

• Digital Ash in a Digital Urn by Bright Eyes
• Mezmerize and Hypnotize by System of a Down [For the love of God, guys, please stop letting the guitarist ruin every song with his eardrum-piercing off-key squeals.]
• The Massacre by 50 Cent
• With Teeth by Nine Inch Nails
• Lullabies to Paralyze by Queens of the Stone Age 

Overrated:

• Arular by M.I.A.
• The Documentary by The Game
• Plans by Death Cab for Cutie
• I Am a Bird Now by Antony & the Johnsons
• Cripple Crow by Devendra Banhart
• The Runners Four by Deerhoof [Superb instrumentation, intensely aggravating singer.]
• Ruby Blue by Roisin Murphy

Sounded intriguing, but failed to give it a spin before the desire to finish this godforsaken list won out:

• Beauty & The Beat by Edan
• The Campfire Headphase by Boards of Canada
• Lookaftering by Vashti Bunyan
• The Weight is a Gift by Nada Surf
• In The Reins EP by Iron & Wine/Calexico
• Rehearsing My Choir by The Fiery Furnaces
• Black Sheep Boy by Okkervil River
• Feels by Animal Collective

New Year's resolution:

Find out what this "Trapped in the Closet" business is all about.

[I mean that with absolute sincerity. Nearly everyone I know who's been exposed to R. Kelly's "song cycle" or whatever the hell it is says that it's the most gorgeously hilarious thing they've heard/seen in years. Plus South Park's rendition of him absolutely killed me.]

Quite the Lineup

Via Pitchfork, here are some of the bands who will be playing at this year's Austin City Limits Festival:

Coldplay, Oasis, Wilco, Arcade Fire, Bloc Party, Franz Ferdinand, Death Cab for Cutie, Bob Mould, Built to Spill, Steve Earle & the Dukes, Sleater-Kinney, Kasabian, Keane, Tortoise, Doves, the Black Keys, the Walkmen, Rilo Kiley, Spoon, the Secret Machines, the Decemberists, the Bravery, the Fiery Furnaces, Mouse on Mars, the Futureheads, M83, Tegan and Sara, Mike Doughty, and many, many more.

That group alone contains about a dozen bands I'd be very interested in seeing. Coldplay and Oasis, in case you're wondering, are not among them. Well, I suppose Oasis could be entertaining depending on the amount of alcohol coursing through the veins of the Gallagher brothers during their performance.

Anyone interested in an expensive September road trip?

Must Purchase

Take a gander at this somber advertisement for talentless warbler Rob Thomas's new solo album:

...and tell me you're not convulsing with laughter.

More Pitchfork Bitchery

Remember when I sophomorically whined that Pitchfork critics are seemingly incapable of writing about The Strokes without mentioning "the site, music critics, hipsters, the word 'indie,' or fashion choices"? [Incidentally, I suppose this is an appropriate time to mention that Pitchfork writers are apparently just as vain as you and me. After Googling his own name, William Bowers discovered my poorly-written missive, and linked to it -- sans commentary -- on his own blog. Small world, etc.]

Imagine my delight when I read today's news article describing the band's near-completion of their third album, in which correspondent James Gregory manages to triumphantly avoid the lazy tendencies of his colleagues...until the story's final sentence, that is. After four paragraphs of gorgeously meta/hipster/indie/fashion free reporting, Gregory describes guitar manufacturer Epiphone's commercial release of a replica of Strokes guitarist Nick Valensi's guitar thusly:

The Epiphone Elitist Nick Valensi Riviera P-94 is available now through your local Epiphone dealer, but vintage Coke shirt and ragged Chuck Taylors are sadly not offered as a package deal.

Sigh. So close.

Morning Bell

7:22 AM: I wearily commence my drive to work.

7:25 AM: SUV driver fails to stop at stop sign, nearly plows into me.

7:26 AM: SUV driver pulls out into oncoming traffic, nearly sideswipes me.

7:34 AM: UCLA Campus Shuttle driver fails to stop at stop sign, nearly T-bones me.

7:36 AM: As I enter UCLA parking garage, Honda Civic driver who is apparently unfamiliar with the concept of "right of way" stops six inches short of crashing into me, then meets my withering glare with an impish giggle.

7:40 AM: As I walk to my office, bread delivery truck driver fails to tilt his head a few degrees in each direction to check for pedestrians before hitting the gas, nearly runs me over.

7:44 AM: I sit down at my desk, log on to my computer, and wonder if I should refrain from reading the morning headlines so as to avoid catalyzing a rage blackout of some sort.

7:50 AM: I read this: Radiohead Begin Work on Their Seventh LP.

7:51 AM: It's such a beautiful day outside, isn't it?

Top Ten Music Videos

I promised nerdy lists, so I hereby present my ten favorite music videos of all time. I emphasize "favorite" here; I appreciate the importance of videos like Michael Jackson's "Thriller," A-Ha's "Take Me On," and Peter Gabriel's "Sledgehammer" in lending credibility and inspiration to the medium, but I can't honestly say that I enjoy watching them more than occasionally. I suspect that this is a testament to the fact that the '90s constituted my formative pop culture years, so call this a "favorite videos of the past fifteen years" list if you're offended by my ignorance of earlier clips.

I thought about limiting myself to one video per director or artist, but that would result in an extremely truncated reflection of my music video tastes, so instead I'll offer the caveat that this list features a whole lot of Spike Jonze, Michel Gondry, and Radiohead. Here we go:

10. "Just"

Radiohead (1994, Directed by Jamie Thraves)

This video just plain blew my mind, man when I was about fourteen years old, and though it is admittedly somewhat gimmicky in retrospect, I can't deny that the concept is dynamite, and Thom Yorke's frenetic posturing never ceases to crack me up. The fact that "Just" is one of the rockingest songs by my favorite band probably doesn't hurt, either. I'm entirely ambivalent about the eternally debated question of what the man says at the end of the video -- like the briefcase in Pulp Fiction, nothing that the director could come up with would properly satiate the audience's expectations.

09. "Fell In Love With A Girl"

The White Stripes (2002, Michel Gondry)

Gondry and his crew apparently spent two months laboring over this energetic video, and their intensive efforts produced a rollicking good time. The visual tricks of "The Hardest Button to Button" and "Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground" are certainly impressive, but "Girl" stands above the rest of Gondry's Stripes collaborations due to its seamless mise en scene (a combination of traditional stop-motion animation and computer effects), and the selfish reason that it's my favorite of the band's songs. Plus, who doesn't love Legos?

08. "Karma Police"

Radiohead (1997, Jonathan Glazer)

A perfect union of song theme and visual, Glazer's video is simple, haunting, and amazingly effective. As a driver-less car chases a desperate man down a dark, empty road, the camera occasionally pans around to Thom Yorke slouching in the backseat, mournfully intoning "This is what you get...when you mess with us." The final twist would make David Fincher proud; I particularly love the way the intensifying tongues of flame that envelop the car match the aural distortion of the song's closing seconds.

07. "Closer"

Nine Inch Nails (1994, Mark Romanek)

Trying to explain my enjoyment of this video is as difficult as attempting to describe why the similarly disturbing Se7en is one of my favorite movies. Incisive film critic Mike D'Angelo had this to say about David Fincher's film in 1995: "I cannot believe this movie got made...I'm not sure that I'm comfortable actually recommending it to others." The sentiment mirrors my thoughts regarding this video, which Romanek loads with eerie compositions and downright freaky imagery. (Strangely, the video actually has little connection to the song -- which, incidentally, is one of the weirdest and funniest love songs ever written). Reservations aside, the video is too visually arresting, thought-provoking, and unyieldingly lascivious to be ignored -- the perfect music video complement to Se7en, released the following year, which employed a remixed version of the song in its equally sinister opening credits sequence.

06. "Rabbit In Your Headlights"

U.N.K.L.E. featuring Thom Yorke (1998, Jonathan Glazer)

Another excellent Glazer video, this clip (inexplicably banned by MTV) mirrors "Karma Police" in its simplicity, menacing portrayal of automobiles, and shocking culmination. A seemingly crazy man staggers down a busy tunnel, muttering gibberish to himself as he is repeatedly run over and knocked aside by cars. The violence continues until the video ends with the most visually stunning climax in the history of the medium, as the man takes a stand, arms outstretched, in front of an approaching car. Instead of crushing him, the vehicle is completely obliterated, shattering into a million pieces in slow motion while the protagonist remains an impervious statue -- a gorgeous image shamelessly filched by the director of U2's "Elevation" video and other clips in the years to come.

05. "Do The Evolution"

Pearl Jam (1998, Todd McFarlane)

Pearl Jam's angriest song this side of "Spin the Black Circle" is a perfect complement for the true star of the show: Todd McFarlane's gorgeous dystopian animation. As Eddie Vedder rages against thieves and liars, McFarlane fills the screen with exquisitely sadistic visuals. The image that still gives me chills to this day is the one captured above -- a fighter pilot unleashes a torrent of bombs from his jet, then rips off his mask to reveal a cackling skeleton beneath. Incorrectly dismissed by some as overly didactic, this video perfectly captures the righteous political anger with which Pearl Jam infuses the song, and displays the breadth of McFarlane's breathtaking skill.

04. "Weapon Of Choice"

Fatboy Slim (2001, Spike Jonze)

Not much to be said about this tour de force that hasn't already been said, except that if you don't like this video, we probably won't be hanging out in my treehouse anytime soon. Many critics tend to favor the Jonze/Slim collaboration "Praise You," but they overlook the fact that it lacks one crucial element: Walken. Christopher Walken owns this video, playfully commanding the screen as he soft-shoes his way through an empty hotel before swan-diving off of a balcony to complete his literal flight of fancy. Jonze frames each shot perfectly, capturing Walken's prodigious dancing talent while throwing in a few Citizen Kane-esque camera flourishes along the way. It's a testament to the actor that this ranks third on my mental list of favorite Walken performances, behind gold watch protector Captain Koons in Pulp Fiction, and the Bruce Dickinson in Saturday Night Live's immortal "More Cowbell" sketch.

03. "Smack My Bitch Up"

Prodigy (1997, Jonas Akerlund)

MTV's banishment of this incredible video (see the caption) is a bit more understandable than their "Rabbit In Your Headlights" ban, considering that nudity, ultra-violence, and general mayhem abound. Perhaps the most simultaneously entertaining and disturbing video ever made, this graphic clip puts the viewer in the P.O.V. of a street punk's night of brutal carousing. The protagonist drinks, snorts coke, dances, fucks, vomits, and smacks up all number of bitches (male and female) over the course of one graphic evening, with Prodigy's most infectious beat throbbing in the background. In the most stunning reveal this side of Vertigo, the video ends with a mirror reflecting the image of the perpetrator of the evening's chaos -- defying the audience's expectations, it's a woman.

02. "Let Forever Be"

The Chemical Brothers (1999, Michel Gondry)

I could watch Gondry's unparalleled kaleidoscopic headtrip on a constant loop for half a day and still never tire of its inventiveness and skill. Gondry displays an astonishing command of visually stunning camera tricks, seamlessly morphing between digital video and traditional 35mm film as he follows a red-headed vixen's travels through her mundane working day and a surrealistic dream world. Considering the brilliance of this video, and the syncopated excellence of Gondry's "Around The World" (which just missed the Top Ten cut), I'm convinced that he's the one director capable of making a feature-length musical that I could actually tolerate. That said, I'll be perfectly content if he sticks with cerebral masterworks like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

01. "Sabotage"

The Beastie Boys (1994, Spike Jonze)

Endlessly ripped off but never duplicated, this is unquestionably the most entertaining music video I've ever seen. In this hysterical parody, Jonze and the Beasties perfectly capture the intensity and absurdity of '70s cop show opening credit sequences. The clip finds the Boys (a.k.a. Alasandro Alegre, Nathan Wind, and Vic Colfari, a.k.a. The Chief, Cochese, and Bobby "The Rookie") engaging in every imaginable cop show cliche: overly-aggressive take-downs of suspects (including the obligatory tackle into a swimming pool), careening car chases, battles with authority figures, and healthy doses of excessive force. Even the briefly-seen tertiary characters (like Sir Stewart Wallace as Himself, and Fred Kelly as "Bunny") are memorable and hilarious.

Just in case I haven't bored you out of your skull yet, here are ten more that just missed the cut (alphabetically arranged):

• Bjork, "It's Oh So Quiet" (Jonze)
• The Chemical Brothers, "Around the World" (Gondry)
• The Chemical Brothers, "Star Guitar" (Gondry)
• Lauryn Hill, "Everything is Everything" (Sanji)
• The Pharcyde, "Drop" (Jonze)
• Portishead, "Only You" (Chris Cunningham)
• Radiohead, "Street Spirit (Fade Out)" (Glazer)
• Radiohead, "No Surprises" (Grant Gee)
• Weezer, "Buddy Holly" (Jonze)
• Wu-Tang Clan, "Gravel Pit"

Shut Up, William Bowers

My good buddy Dev can attest to my disgust with the vast majority of so-called "music critics" who are paid cash money to express their opinions on current aural offerings by employing the most ridiculously overblown meta-obsessed masturbatory prose this side of William Faulkner.

Case in point: William Bowers, Pitchfork critic du jour, who renders the site's otherwise interesting Top 100 Albums of  2000-04 nearly unreadable by spewing intentionally inaccessible blatherings on superb albums like Radiohead's Amnesiac and Interpol's Turn on the Bright Lights in the capsules the site's editors deem him worthy of authoring.

My most significant pet peeve with Pitchfork writers has always been their tendency to bask in their own inflated conception of the site's apparent importance and excellence. One could get effectively smashed by playing a drinking game that requires taking a shot every time a Pitchfork writer mentions the site, music critics, hipsters, the word "indie," or fashion choices in any of his or her reviews of The Strokes, for example. I wonder what the site could actually accomplish if its writers ceased their continual obsession with cementing their indie/hipster cred and instead simply focused upon reviewing music.

I leave you with but one example of the idiocy of William Bowers' "criticism," from his Top 100 capsule regarding the aforementioned Interpol album:

The brouhaha over their poses, clothes, and underwhelming shows is a false consciousness, a foggy defense against this anxious work of art.  The record's audience needs-- pathologically, almost-- to cite the artists' mortality.

My response can be adequately summed up with a simple question: What in God's fucking name are you talking about?

To Coachella or Not to Coachella

For the second straight year, I'm wrestling with the decision of whether to drop close to $100 to spend a day baking in the Indio sun at the Coachella Music Festival. Since I didn't attend last year when my favorite band on the face of the planet was headlining, it's highly unlikely that I'll be heading out to the desert this year -- especially considering that the headliner of Saturday's show is a band I have little to no use for.

That said, I can't help lamenting all the bands I'll miss out on seeing; this concert has officially cemented its status as an indie rock fan's wet dream (with some mainstream giants mixed in, of course). I told some friends at lunch today that I'd shell out $100 if I could pick ten of the bands to play a concert somewhere closer than three frickin' hours away, so I figured I'd kick off the listmaking with my ideal ten-band lineup, drawn from the announced lineups for both days. In random order:

• Wilco
• Spoon
• Weezer
• Rilo Kiley
• Bright Eyes
• The Arcade Fire
• British Sea Power
• Prodigy
• Nine Inch Nails
• MF Doom

Not to mention medium-to-heavy interest in the Chemical Brothers, the Fiery Furnaces, k-os, Doves, the Raveonettes, and M83.

Dammit. Now I want to go.